


A Mile In Your Shoes

by Chaz_1789



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger I'm looking at you, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Pun King Ron Weasley, Sharing a Bed, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Smut, Snark, and nothing malicious, dub con (only sort of if you squint), gryffindors being gryffindors, if bad puns get you going then Ron Weasley's your man, magical mishap, oh yeah, where was i?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16036562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaz_1789/pseuds/Chaz_1789
Summary: "What the–?""Agh, don't move it!""I'm not, you're moving it!""What in Merlin's name have you done?!""I didn't do this! I mean, I didn't know– it was the... Shit. We need to find Hermione.""You know, Potter, I think it goes to show how royally you've cocked up that I'm going to agree with that statement."





	A Mile In Your Shoes

  
"AaaaaaAAAAHH–" _Thwump_.

  
_Squish_

  
~ • ~

  
"What the–?"

"Agh, don't move it!"

"I'm not, you're moving it!"

"What in Merlin's name have you done?!"

"I didn't do this! I mean, I didn't know– it was the... _Shit_. We need to find Hermione."

"You know, Potter, I think it goes to show how royally you've cocked up that I'm going to agree with that statement."

  
~ • ~

  
Harry had been exploring the Room of Requirement.

His eighth year was progressing normally, almost too normally really, it made his skin itch. Classes were classes, Quidditch was Quidditch and nothing was trying to kill him. It was...an adjustment.

The biggest difference in the day to day was the castle. Many places were still being repaired, and occasionally construction workers from the Ministry could be seen around the place, magically patching up the stonework. Second to that was the number of students in Slytherin house. Only a very few were returning for the special eighth year, and barely any were newly Sorted. Adding this to the winnowed out school populace in general, reminders of the war were pretty constant.

Following a sort of morbid curiosity Harry had gone to see if the Room of Requirement was still working. He'd tried summoning the old DA headquarters, a room full of chamber pots and then...the Room of Hidden Things. The first two seemed undamaged, but the third had been the one Harry was most interested in.

He'd wanted to see if anything remained of it. And to see if there were any remains to be retrieved. It wasn't exactly a happy visit, but he felt like somebody should do it. His visit had shed light on a few things. That the Room of Hidden Things was apparently the only iteration of the magical space to have been touched by the Fiendfyre was one, and that only one object had been unharmed by the flames was another.

Harry had walked into a barren room, smaller than it had been the day of the battle, with fading scorch marks on the walls, floor and ceiling. It was almost as if the Room was trying to heal itself. There was still some ash on the floor, but nowhere near as much as there should have been for the massive amount of junk that once filled the place.

As he had wandered, trying not to breathe in the acrid, smoky smell too deeply (he'd left the door open in a vain attempt to let in some fresh air), Harry had spotted a shiny object on the floor, half obscured by a pile of ash. He knelt down to have a closer look.

It was round, faded gold, almost the size of a galleon but not quite, and it had a series of unusual markings on it in a language Harry was pretty sure had died aeons ago. A familiar curiosity overcame him, a strange pull to the enigmatic object. What was it? Who had left it? How had it survived the magical inferno when everything else had been incinerated? Including Malfoy's cabinet. Had Malfoy seen this talisman thing? Did he know what it was? He'd spent enough time in here, he might.

As Harry reached for the object, his hand passed through a shimmering field, that sparkled pale orange and crackled faintly a few times, before fading into wisps of nothing. It was at that point Harry _should_ have stopped, pulled back his hand and walked out of the room.

But, of course, that wasn't what happened.

A second or two after he'd picked up the bumpy, oddly warm coin, he had been catapulted through the air, out of the door and through the castle at such speed that he wasn't sure anyone could even see him as he sped past!

He whizzed and whooshed through corridors and down stairs until his journey ended abruptly when he collided _hard_ with a body, ending up sprawled on the floor with them while an odd, hot rushing surrounded his left foot. It was almost like it had been dunked in a very hot wave pool.

Pushing himself up on his hands, Harry looked to see who had broken his fall and it turned out to be none other than the Prince of Pricks himself, Draco Malfoy. Harry groaned and tried to right himself but was hampered by a very uncooperative left leg. Sitting up now, Harry looked down to see what was wrong with it and was presented with something that sure as hell wasn't his foot.

It was bare for one thing, no sock or shoe – Harry had been wearing both. For another, it was entirely the wrong colour; far too pale at a kind of warm caramel tone. He didn't need a line-up to know those weren't his toenails. And for the final clue...it was attached to Malfoy's right leg as well.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry had sent off his patronus to get Hermione, given that the hallway he'd been flung into had contained Malfoy and no one else. He noted the glare that Malfoy directed at his stag as it cantered away. They sat in stunned, tense silence, until after a thankfully short amount of time Hermione and Ron had come bursting into the corridor, run up to them, and gasped in unison.

Harry couldn't blame them – he and Malfoy must make quite a sight.

Their trouser legs were in tatters and, clearly visible below the ragged material, was the smooth merging of Harry's dark, muscled leg with the pale, slim one of Malfoy's into this...weird...splice foot that seemed to be a combination of both his and Malfoy's.

"What on earth happened?!" Hermione asked, staring at their anomalous appendage.

"That is exactly what I want to bloody know," spat out Malfoy murderously.

"I don't know," said Harry quickly, ignoring Malfoy, "but it's probably something to do with a talisman I found in the Room of Hidden Things."

"A talisman?" Hermione repeated at the same time Malfoy asked, "Why were you there?"

Harry chose to ignore Malfoy again. "You think you can separate us?" he asked, hopefully. At the fearful look on Hermione's face, his stomach dropped.

"Why were you in the Room of Hidden Things?" Malfoy repeated, sharply.

"None of your business," Harry snapped back.

"What the fuck did you do, you moron?"

"I don't know!" Harry flung up his arms in exasperation.

"Ugh, could you _be_ any more idiotic?" sighed Malfoy, incredulously.

"Ugh, could you _be_ any more 'Malfoy'?" Harry retorted back, imitating Malfoy's stupid snooty voice.

"Pack it in, the pair of you!" snapped Hermione, irritated. "We've got a few things to do. First, find out how you managed to get yourselves into this mess," (Malfoy glared daggers at the side of Harry's head) "second, find a way to get you out; and third, try to keep you two from killing each other while you're stuck like this!"

"Wouldn't hold out your hopes on that one, Hermione," muttered Harry, glaring right back at the blonde ponce currently sharing his left foot.

"Just be glad it wasn't your arms that got fused, eh?" chipped in Ron, who seemed entirely too amused rather than horrified by the situation.

"Of course. Thank Merlin for small mercies, for a minute there I thought I'd also been saddled with the most irritating git in the unive– oh, _wait_ ," Malfoy said flatly, oozing sarcasm. Harry just rolled his eyes.

It was honestly the most bizarre experience, feeling someone else attached to you. The longer they sat there, the more Harry became aware of the thin membranes of skin joining their ankles and calves, could feel where his nerve endings mingled with those of Malfoy's. He didn't dare wiggle his toes.

"And you say that there was a talisman?" Hermione went on, doggedly.

"Yes," Harry said, "I picked it up to have a look and it kind of...whooshed me to where this idiot was standing and suddenly we're contestants in a three legged race."

"Oh, _I'm_ the idiot? Picking up an unknown magical artefact for no reason other than to 'have a look'. Honestly, this sort of bollocks is so typically you it's a wonder you're still breathing!"

"Hermione," Harry gazed up at her, pleading, "either find a cure or kill me. I can't spend the rest of the day with _this!_ " He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"We will find something, don't worry," Hermione said soothingly, even as Malfoy scoffed. "Now, what happened to this talisman?"

"I, er...dropped it."

"Like a bloody genius!" snarked Malfoy.

"Hey! I was being flung through the castle at breakneck speed! Holding onto it wasn't exactly a top priority."

"Right, well, me and Ron will go and search for it then. Seems like a good place to start," Hermione said briskly. "Where were you standing?"

"Head to the Room of Requirement," answered Harry, "and ask it for a place to hide something." He was aware of Malfoy looking at him shrewdly.

"Ok, we'll do that. Let's get you up," she said. She and Ron held out their hands and hoisted Harry and Malfoy up so they were standing. They wobbled a little but didn't fall down. "You alright?" Harry nodded, Malfoy scowled. "Okay then. Try and get to the Gryffindor common room if you can. We'll inform McGonagall once we've retrieved the talisman, as I really think we should get to it before anyone else does. Ron, come on, we're going to look for this thing. And if you see it, don't touch it. In fact, don't touch anything."

"I'm not a kid, Hermione!" protested Ron as the two of them rushed off down the corridor, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy. And their three feet.

  
~ • ~

  
"We should probably try taking a step."

Malfoy was silent. He seemed to be seething too much to form words.

"Come on, just move the...the middle one then we'll both move our other ones."

"I don't need you to teach me how to walk, Potter," Malfoy snapped finally.

"Wonderful news. So, can we try and get to Gryffindor tower now?"

"I don't want anyone to see me like this! Least of all a gaggle of gawking Gryffindors!"

"Not my proudest moment either, Malfoy. But it's closer than the dungeons and Hermione is our best bet here, I reckon. So...one step?"

Malfoy glowered at him yet again, but then braced himself for movement. They moved the foot in unison and Harry was optimistic for about a quarter of a second until Malfoy wobbled precariously as they set the foot down and nearly toppled over, saved only by Harry grabbing him around the shoulders. Malfoy looked down and grimaced.

"It's a _left_ foot. You've given me two left feet!"

Harry looked down and noticed that for the first time too.

"Ah."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I hate you," he sighed out, venomously.

Embarrassingly, the only way they could find to walk without falling was for Harry to have his arm around Malfoy's shoulders, and for Malfoy to steady himself with an arm around Harry's waist. And to make matters even worse, they could move about as fast as a stoned flobberworm. Getting all the way up to Gryffindor tower like this seemed to take forever! Miraculously encountering no other students, they finally arrived, approached the Fat Lady (who chortled away shamelessly at them) and climbed awkwardly through the portrait hole after Harry gave her the password.

The few people in the room froze at the sight of them.

Then noise erupted as his housemates crowded around them asking rapid-fire questions.

"What happened?"

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Did he curse you, Harry?"

"What did you do, Malfoy?"

"Is this some kind of practical joke?"

"Everyone, stop it!" Harry barked, and the room fell silent again. He didn't like shouting orders, but sometimes the deference with which people treated his words now was useful.

"To clarify; this was an accident, not Malfoy's fault, and it would be great if you could all stop asking questions." The confused faces he was met with seemed dissatisfied with this extremely abridged explanation, but he ignored them. Harry glanced over to Malfoy. "Come on," he said quietly, and with an angry blush, slung his arm around Malfoy again and steered them towards his dormitory. A bit of repressed snickering followed them out of the room.

Once in the boys dormitory they collapsed onto the edge of Harry's bed and sat for a moment. Today was, Harry realised, the first time he'd been alone with Malfoy since...well, for years. And they weren't trying to curse each other. This left him at a little bit of a loose end as for what to say. So he lowered his gaze to look once again at the bizarre limb stuck between them.

"Isn't it weird how it's a combination of us?"

"I'm trying not to look at it to be honest," Malfoy sniffed disdainfully.

"Like, that looks a bit like my toe shape only slimmer. And that part of the strange double-ankle bit I'm pretty sure is like yours. Plus it's narrower than my foot but, I'd guess, broader than yours–"

"Yes, it's an absolute miracle baby of a foot, can we stop talking about it now before I violently regurgitate my lunch?"

"Untwist your knickers, Malfoy, it's not going to be permanent...probably. I just figure if we can at least make civil conversation we're less likely to hex each other into pieces."

"Levelheadedness and pragmatism. Are you sure the cursed talisman didn't fry your brain?"

"I don't know. I don't want to kill you yet, so it's possible," Harry shrugged. Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry, an odd expression resting on his features. Harry noted how pale his grey eyes were.

"Why were you in that particular room?"

At that moment, the dormitory door swung open loudly, and Harry and Malfoy's heads snapped back around to look at it. In came Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ron and Hermione, who was levitating what looked to be a bundled handkerchief in front of her.

"Whoa," said Dean.

"So, it's true," gasped Seamus.

"Bad luck, guys," said Neville, grimacing in sympathy.

"We found it!" exclaimed Hermione, triumphantly. "It was in the seventh floor corridor, not far from the Room. McGonagall's been told too, she should be along in a minute."

"Great," said Harry, trying to feel relieved but hating the attention of so many eyes on them.

"That is one funky looking foot," said Seamus, kneeling down in front of them and squinting at it. "Can you both feel it if I do this?" He jabbed it hard with his finger. Instinctively they drew the foot back.

"Of course we can feel it, you pillock!" snarled Malfoy angrily.

"Yeah, best not touch it, mate, that curse might be contagious," offered Dean.

"Christ, Potter, I didn't realise all your friends were as intellectually handicapped as you," Draco muttered, annoyed.

"Better than us auditioning for Cunt Of The Year for the eighth year in a row," Harry retorted.

"You wound me," drawled Malfoy sarcastically. "Spend all night thinking that one up?"

"Hardly. I don't need to exchange sleep for wit."

"You call that wit?! The word _cunt_ does not a witticism make."

"Mr Malfoy!"

All heads turned to the door through which McGonagall had just strode. "I hope not to hear that language repeated by anyone, thank you very much." Malfoy scowled, and turned a little pink. "Now, Miss Granger sent word about the accident." She cast a calculating eye on their foot, lips thinning. "You have the object?" she asked Hermione.

"Yes, Professor." Hermione levitated over the bundled handkerchief and it opened up to reveal the coin.

"Hmm, I don't recognise the characters, it could be cuneiform." McGonagall drew out her wand, drew a glowing square in the air with it, tapped the air within the square which made the sound of a camera shutter, and then plucked the square out of thin air, it now having solidified into a photograph of the talisman.

"I shall send copies if this to the other teachers. We can see if any of their expertise is of use. Miss Granger, I leave the object in your capable hands. I assume you'll be wanting to look into this yourself, and I'm afraid the staff probably won't have the time to research it quite as thoroughly."

Hermione's eyes glittered at the prospect of a puzzle that needed solving. "Yes, Professor," she said again, excitedly. Harry couldn't really feel excited about much. McGonagall didn't know what the talisman was and it sounded very much like he and Malfoy wouldn't be getting their own toes back before tomorrow.

"Well," McGonagall began briskly, turning to Harry and Malfoy, "you are both adults, despite what your behaviour may indicate, so I will leave you to hash out the particulars of your...situation. As I said, I will do what I can to find out what exactly you've managed to do, but I don't want to hear that you've hexed each other into oblivion. Understood?" She gave them both the sternest of glares and they nodded hastily.

And with that she turned from the room muttering quietly under her breath something that sounded like 'disaster waiting to happen'. There was an awkward beat of silence.

"So we're stuck like this," said Malfoy stiffly.

"For now," replied Hermione patiently. "For the next...however long it takes you've just got to get on with things, I suppose. I'm going to go put this somewhere safe," she said, indicating the gleaming gold talisman still floating in midair, and left the boys in the dorm.

"I'll just say this now: I'm not sleeping in the dungeons," said Harry stubbornly, turning to Malfoy, who sighed, exasperated, and rolled his eyes.

"And I suppose you expect me to sleep _here?"_

Dean snorted loudly. "I'm not putting up with this–" he wiggled his finger between Harry and Malfoy "–all night. No bloody way."

"Seconded," said Seamus raising his hand.

"Thirded," chimed in Neville.

Draco threw up his hands, "Then where the hell are we–"

"The Room of Requirement!" exclaimed Harry, snapping his fingers. It just occurred to him – the Room would be perfect!

"Let's see, it's plenty far away from here, so... yep, that works!" said Dean, looking a bit relieved.

Harry had reason to suspect that their bickering was not the only thing making his dorm-mates reticent to let them stay; no one was saying it, but Harry got the feeling that they might feel none too safe sleeping in the same room as an ex-Death Eater, albeit an acquitted one.

Harry looked at Malfoy expectantly.

"Fine," he sighed resignedly, "but I'm getting Blaise to bring me my things if I'm not allowed to walk down to my dorm."

"Great, sorted. One obstacle down, only five hundred more to go," said Harry. "Like getting down to dinner, that should only take a few _hours_."

"And find a bloody shoe, would you?" Malfoy groused. "My– _the_ foot is freezing."

  
~ • ~

  
It was on their admittedly early and infuriatingly slow descent toward the Great Hall and the promise of food that Malfoy froze, almost causing Harry to bring them both face first onto the flagstone. Harry caught himself, no thanks to the twat next to him who was staring, looking horror struck into the middle distance.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" Harry asked testily.

"Oh, bollocks!"

"What, Malfoy?!"

"...I need to go to the loo."

"Okay, nope! That's where I draw a fucking line!" Harry said, horror-struck.

"That's fine, we'll just wait until _you're_ the one bursting to go and then see how you feel about that sodding line, shall we?" huffed Malfoy.

So they located the closest bathroom on the second floor.

Harry couldn't really see how his day could get much worse than this. Accompanying Malfoy to the toilet and having to stand awkwardly half out of the stall, wedged in the door, and casting a Muffliato so that he didn't have to hear him...go. He'd tried to psych himself up for how awkward it would be and to be fair he....really didn't psych himself up enough. It was _excruciating_. Although, no matter how much Malfoy would love to act to the contrary, his shit still stank. Just like a regular human being.

It was still the most awkward situation of Harry's life to date.

That was, until he felt, standing at the sink with Malfoy washing his hands, his own _needs_ arise. That had been worse. It was worse because Harry at least had the decency to stay silent and let Malfoy try and pretend like he wasn't there. Harry received no such courtesy in return.

"Are you not done yet? ... Performance anxiety, is it? ... Could you hurry it up? ... My leg is going numb ... Good god, Potter, what did you eat to create _that_ aroma?! ... If my Crup made a smell like that I'd euthanise it."

By the time he was finally done (because trying to go number two while someone is attached to you and jabbering non-stop about it tended to delay the process somewhat) Harry was ready to slam Malfoy's face into the sink he was currently washing his hands in. He cast a glance up into the mirror to see a slightly uncomfortable expression on Malfoy's face as he looked at the floor. It was only then that Harry remembered the last time they'd been in a bathroom alone. Maybe they should get out of there quickly.

  
~ • ~

  
When they finally got down to it, dinner was (shock of shocks) also not much fun! Silence fell as they shuffled unsteadily into the Hall and Harry detested the familiar feeling of all eyes being on him. After yet another, albeit whispered, squabble Harry managed to get them seated at the very end of one of the long benches at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy was not happy about this and was apparently sulking, which was just splendid, his sulking consisting of a continuous stream of angry ranting under his breath, entirely directed at Harry.

Only Ron sat with them, Hermione having diligently taken her food up to the library with her to make a start on translating the markings on the talisman. Harry loved her dearly for her determination. Most of the other students in the Hall just stared. They were being treated to their first showing of the circus act that was him and Malfoy and apparently it was mesmerising. A few stifled titters peppered the uncomfortable quiet, but thankfully, after a while, normal noise began to resume.

With Ron there, at least it wasn't just the two of them facing down the uncomfortable attention on their own. However, it did mean that it was awkward question time – Ron still seeming far too amused for Harry's liking – and just as he brought up, smirking, the issue of toilets, Harry insisted they go up and see what the Room could rustle up for them as a sleeping quarter. He could practically feel the relief radiating from Malfoy as they left Ron, still chuckling, at the Gryffindor table to go to the Slytherin table and ask Zabini to retrieve a few of Malfoy's things.

After waiting in the Entrance Hall for him to return with a small bag (and a big smirk), and yet another interminably slow walk up to the seventh floor corridor, they approached the wall along which the door would appear.

"We'll both need to think the exact same thing to be safe," Harry said. "What about 'we need somewhere to sleep together'?"

Malfoy gave Harry _the most_ withering yet disbelieving look he had ever seen in his life, and Harry blushed furiously. God damn it, he'd not even thought– "Or rather, 'we need a bedroom suitable for two people joined at the foot'," he amended, hastily. Malfoy continued to stare at him incredulously.

"I pride myself on my eloquence, Potter, however your idiocy leaves me speechless, it really does."

"Evidently _not_ ," Harry snarled, "you haven't shut up all day."

"Let's just go with the second suggestion and see what happens, yes?"

And so they hobbled along in front of the wall three times, Harry thinking the phrase and hoping that the result was something decent. The door appeared and they pushed it open.

The first thing that caught Harry's attention was the massive four poster double bed that took up the majority of the room. That was pretty hard to miss, because of course it was a double. That made sense. They needed a double. He and Malfoy would have to...right.

Wrenching his gaze away from it, Harry took in the rest of the room. It was wood panelled and decorated in neutral cream colours, with a large window, a fireplace in front of which sat a small sofa and coffee table. In the back left corner was a wooden double door behind which Harry presumed was a bathroom. A couple of lamps on the nightstands softly illuminated the room, and a chest of drawers and desk with two chairs filled the rest of the space. All in all, it was a very nice room. It was just a shame he had to share it with Draco Malfoy.

"Not bad," said Harry, putting his bag down. Draco was still staring at the bed. Harry sighed and nudged him with an elbow, nodding towards the dresser. "I'm going to put my stuff away, Malfoy."

They proceeded to hobble around the room, which was thankfully (but not really surprisingly) proportioned so that even as a double-width person they had just enough space to navigate furniture. Even the bathroom door was a double one and when they went in to see the facilities, Harry breathed a sigh of relief: privacy curtains! In the shower cubicle, next to the loo; Harry wanted to kiss the room! Bathroom visits would still be awkward as hell, but at least now they wouldn't be quite as painful.

  
~ • ~

  
Changing for bed – at a slightly earlier hour than was usual, because neither of them could focus enough to do school work that evening, and they sure as hell weren't going to _talk_ – presented a few logistical problems for Harry. He stood with his back to Malfoy as much as he could and with his hands on his belt as he contemplated the best way to remove his trousers. They were caught above their cursed foot and he didn't want to just stand there in his pants with his trousers round their ankles. He deliberated a little more.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Draco scoffed loudly and suddenly there was a breeze as Harry's trousers split down the left leg seam. He scrabbled to clutch at the falling fabric.

"Hey!"

Draco ignored him, holding up a pair of Harry's clean underpants in front of Harry's face and then casting a Diffindo along the outside left leg and handing them to Harry. "Diffindo the leg, put them on and then Reparo them back up again, it's not alchemy!"

"Look away then," said Harry churlishly, blushing against his will and clutching the underpants to his bare chest. Malfoy huffed derisively again, but did look away as Harry cut away his boxer leg, stepped out of them and the tattered trousers, then slipped into his clean pants. He repeated the technique for his pyjama bottoms, shrugged on his top – even though he didn't normally wear one – and then closed his eyes as Malfoy did the same.

They almost fell flat on their faces as, after standing the foot of the bed, they both automatically made to split off to either side of the massive four-poster. Harry flung out a hand to grip the bed post and tried to ignore the pain in their conjoined leg from where it had pulled sharply.

"Right side?" Harry asked with a grimace.

"This is unbearable," whinged Malfoy as they sat on the side of the bed and he had to shuffle back awkwardly on his bum to get onto it properly. They got under the covers and Harry took a second lying in the quiet, staring at the canopy, to wonder if this qualified as the strangest day in his life.

It felt like he should say something, but he couldn't very well say 'goodnight, Malfoy', could he? That'd be too weird even for today. Maybe just, 'night–'

"Let's turn off the lights," came Malfoy's curt voice from beside him.

"Okay," replied Harry, and, without looking over to take in the sight of Malfoy _sharing a bed with him_ , he reached over to switch off his lamp. The room was plunged into total darkness. It was almost unnaturally dark. And now, in the darkness, the sounds of their breaths were the only noises to be heard, and they seemed ridiculously loud to Harry. But as the awkward silence wore on, both of them lying stock still, Harry decided he would let his mind wander to more pleasant things than reality; Quidditch, treacle tart, the Burrow, the possibility that they might be separated tomorrow. All good things.

He drifted off within minutes.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry was being awoken by an unusual sensation. Not the unusual sensation of being attached at the foot to another human being, no, this was different. This was...well, it was familiar, but his brain told him it probably shouldn't really be happening right this second.

His pulse was racing. Why was it racing? He was breathing fast, but he hadn't been having a nightmare. And his head was clouding up in a most familiar way, pleasantly buzzing, the warmth and satisfaction radiating up from his...

Oh no.

He managed not to vocalise his surprise, but noticed, far too late, that his pyjama bottoms were far too tight and now a little damp in one spot. Which, okay, he was a healthy teenage boy, sometimes dreams did this, or mornings, but Harry knew he'd not been having that kind of dream. Or at least he was pretty sure – a fresh wave of pleasure was making it quite hard to think clearly. He almost groaned as it surged through him.

And that was when a quiet groan _did_ cut through the air.

A groan from the left side of the bed. And now that Harry was aware of more than just his own ridiculous arousal – which was increasing despite him not laying a finger on himself – he heard the rustling of sheets, the barely there intakes of stifled breath, the rhythmic tattoo he could feel through the mattress they shared. It was all _very_ familiar, he'd grown up in a dormitory after all. Malfoy was having one off the wrist. And Harry was apparently along for the ride!

He realised this in the split second before the movement sped up, his balls throbbed, there was a tiny gasp from beside him, and then _Harry_ was the one groaning at the sudden and surprising orgasm that was torn from his untouched cock, tingling all the way through him from his head down to his (their) toes. He felt the hot stickiness of his release coat the inside of his pants in pulses and sweeping waves of satisfaction flowing through him. Harry juddered in place as the aftershocks died down.

There was a thick silence.

Oh god, he'd been so loud! Malfoy had definitely heard, if the tense stillness on the mattress beside Harry was any indication. But...but it had been _Malfoy's_ orgasm, not his! It wasn't Harry's fault!

"Is it too much to hope you just happened to be...doing that at the exact same time as me?" came Malfoy's quiet, almost pleading voice after a minute of just breathing.

"I...I was asleep. Until...it woke me up," answered Harry awkwardly.

"Oh god," moaned Malfoy despairingly. "Is nothing sacred?"

"Hey, I'm the one who just woke up to an immaculate orgasm that wasn't even my own!" Harry said hotly, sitting up and feeling the wetness on his crotch acutely as he did so. "Ugh, could you clean us up, please?"

Malfoy sat up too, after a shuffle which Harry could guess was him pulling up his pyjamas.

"So, you actually..."

Harry could hear the unfinished question and blushed.

"Yes, alright? I did, right in my underwear and it's your fault, so can you please grab your wand and clear up the mess before it dries?" he snapped, awfully hot in the face and ears.

There was another shuffle, a light clunk as Malfoy located his wand on the bedside table, and then the faint, cool tingle of a cleaning charm removed the rapidly cooling liquid from Harry's downstairs. He sighed, grateful.

Another moment of silence passed.

"I can't believe you felt that through this," said Malfoy, tugging at their shared foot. "Oh god, I can't believe I just got off Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, well I'm not about to go yelling it from the ramparts either, so we can just forget it happened, alright?"

"What number am I in the ranks then?"

"What?"

"Notches on your bedpost. Where am I? Somewhere behind Shrieking Potter Fangirl number thirty-two?"

"What– that's none of your business!" Harry said, defensively.

"I just made you jizz in your underwear, I think I've got a right to know."

"You've got zero rights to anything here, Malfoy, I was– was ambushed by _your_ orgasm so don't start acting like you seductively showed me the time of my life, alright? And anyway..." Harry trailed off, shifting back down onto the bed, and staring into the almost complete dark of the room.

"Anyway what?"

"The number definitely isn't as high as that," he huffed, slightly embarrassed, aiming his face away from where he knew Malfoy was, even though he couldn't see him. He didn't know why he was even saying this much.

Another pause, then Harry felt Malfoy lie back down too.

Honestly, how had this become his life?

He wasn't going to tell Malfoy that his total of bedpost notches was two. _Including_ him. Harry and Ginny had gotten intimate in his sixth year before he'd left to hunt Horcruxes, but not since, and they'd never gone all the way. They had reunited after the war and tried to get close again, but eventually Ginny told him she was just grieving too much to be able to think about a relationship. Which he totally understood, and he didn't begrudge her for having changed. Harry certainly had. He didn't feel like he'd been dumped, and they were still friends, family even.

But it did mean that Harry's sexual experiences were embarrassingly few and...odd now. Now they were odd. Thanks to Malfoy. But, no, this wasn't even in the same ballpark. Malfoy hadn't touched him, hadn't known what he was doing, and certainly had not intended to give Harry any sort of pleasure so, no. Bedpost still notched firmly at one, thank you very much.

"Wonder what it would feel like if we did that at the same time?" Malfoy mused curiously into the dark, and Harry started out of his reverie.

If they did it at the same time...?

To be fair...it wasn't an idea without merit. And Harry couldn't exactly deny the curiosity of his own that stirred up. Surely it would feel twice as intense? But, for fucks's sake, _no_. No, that was _not_ going to happen.

"Guess we'll never know," said Harry, stamping down on his own disappointment at being denied the answer to that intriguing question. He rolled onto his side, away from Malfoy, their foot angling up in between them. It wasn't supremely comfortable.

"Do you have to sleep on your side?" Malfoy grumbled. "We're pulling weirdly."

"I don't want to sleep on my back," mumbled Harry, already feeling sleepy again after the orgasm and especially now the adrenaline of surprise was wearing off.

"Fine," huffed Malfoy and Harry felt their joined leg shift and then there was a warm presence behind him. Pretty close behind him, actually. "Breathe easy, Potter, I'm not spooning you, but this is the only way I'm going to be able to get comfortable."

"Right," Harry said, letting go of some of his tension. Still felt a little close to spooning, but he was now a bit too butter-brained to care. He drifted off once more.

Harry was almost, _almost_ asleep again, and most probably dreamed the gentle hand that briefly brushed against his waist.

  
~ • ~

  
"I can't believe you did that while I was in the room," mumbled Harry the next morning, as he and Malfoy hobbled steadily along the corridor towards their first lesson.

"Just because I've been cursed doesn't mean my knob suddenly stopped working! I would've thought you'd be more used to stuff like that growing up in a dorm," replied Malfoy, sounding cold but unruffled.

"Don't know about the Slytherin dorm but we don't exactly do it on the same bed."

"Oh, calm down, Princess Potter, it wasn't like we were touching each other."

"We're always touching each other!" Harry barked, before halting them in their tracks.

A group of third year girls had stopped directly ahead and were gaping at the two of them.

"Not like– I didn't– I meant the foot!" Harry called desperately after them as the gaggle ran away, giggling incessantly.

"You're so smooth, Potty, I'm amazed you're still single," Malfoy chuckled evilly as Harry sighed and slapped a hand to his own face in frustrated defeat.

"Shut up," he groused, and they returned to making their slow, ungainly way up to Transfiguration. Harry gained a small amount of satisfaction from seeing Malfoy try to look haughty and elegant whilst clomping around with two left feet.

As they entered the classroom a hush fell. Harry got the distinct impression it was a silence comprised of a lot of repressed chuckling. Trying to look neutral, he shuffled them to the enlarged desk with two chairs at the front of the room. Trust McGonagall to think of everything. The noise level began to grow and the expected laughter was also punctuated with some dark muttering.

"Alright everyone," McGonagall called crisply, "yes, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy have had a magical mishap. Whilst unfortunate, it does not affect this class in any way - which means I require your fullest attention as always. Miss Abbot, eyes up here, if you please. So, let us begin."

The lesson went pretty much the same as usual after that, as did all his others, barring the Arithmancy class that Harry sat in on instead of his scheduled free period. Not for the first time he resented Malfoy for depriving him of this free time, but then, no time was free time any more because the poncy twit was around every minute of the damn day!

And that evening they were to sit at the Slytherin table for dinner. Harry was not looking forward to this. At all.

Pansy Parkinson's eyes practically sparkled with poorly concealed delight as they took their seats on the long bench opposite her and Zabini.

"Draco, you seem to have some sort of unsightly growth," she said with feigned repugnance. "Couldn't Pomfrey have it cauterised off or something?"

"Now, Pansy, be kind, this is obviously hard on them," interjected Zabini in a tone that Harry didn't trust in the slightest. "Do tell us, how are the shared bathroom visits going?" he asked with a brilliant white grin of purest evil. Harry could feel the heat bloom in his face, but decided that he would not rise – not at all.

"Good grief, Blaise, you want details?!" shot back Malfoy, eyebrow arching. "I didn't realise you had such _specific_ interests. Is your collection of magazines not doing it for you anymore? I pity the poor House Elf that cleans under your bed."

Harry almost laughed. He managed to turn it into a cough but it was a close thing. He saw Draco smirk out of the corner of his eye. Neither Zabini nor Parkinson looked miffed in the least – apparently this was just normal for them. Goyle was watching the scene unfold with a guileless kind of interest, but not jumping in to say anything himself.

After their prepared comments were out of the way, however, the Slytherins got on with their dinner as per usual, now pretty much ignoring Harry, which he couldn't really complain about. Malfoy seemed to be the only one including him when he spoke, and that was...unnerving. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say that Malfoy's pulse felt a bit quicker than usual, or at least, that's what it felt like at their connected circulatory system. It was making Harry a little jittery.

After dinner, they met up with Ron and Hermione in the library. Harry took his homework, but he was far more interested in seeing what headway Hermione was making with the talisman. He and Malfoy stumped slowly up to the table where Ron and Hermione sat, already reading. Harry's spirits rose on seeing Hermione with her nose in a book full of intricate symbols that looked promising.

She looked up at him as Harry dumped his bag on the table.

"I still haven't isolated what language it is," she said, brows furrowed.

"What? You haven't?" Harry asked, feeling crestfallen at her greeting.

"From similar artefacts in other cultures I think it might be some kind of inclusion or bonding spell...maybe? It could be a healing charm, or possibly a curse...?"

"Well that's specific," huffed Malfoy.

"You try translating a dead language from nothing, and see how confident you feel! I am still studying for the NEWTs as well, if you hadn't forgotten."

"We haven't forgotten, and we are too! It's kind of urgent though, Hermione," said Harry with a significant sideways glance at Malfoy.

"You're both still alive, aren't you?" she said huffily.

"If you call this living," drawled Malfoy, dryly. Harry angrily stifled a snort of amusement. God damn it. Why did he have to start finding the berk funny now?

"Look, I'll get there, but this is the kind of thing you want to be sure about before you go...chopping your legs off or something. McGonagall told me which books would be best to start with, and she's looking into it too, when she has the time. But until then, you're just going to have to bear it."

"Right," Harry sighed, resigning himself to the fact that they would likely be stuck like this for _days_. Lord above, he hoped it wasn't weeks! They took their seats and Harry pulled his Potions essay towards himself and attempted to concentrate on it, despite the headache he was now nursing behind his left eye.

"Ugh, this is giving me a headache," mumbled Malfoy, sullenly, shaking his head. "Why does this have to happen to _me_? I feel victimised. Maybe this is some kind of plot."

"Maybe someone thought you weren't _toeing_ the line after your trial," said Ron from across the table. Malfoy squinted at him.

"What?"

"You're right, you should tread carefully," Ron replied intently, "something could be afoot!"

"Oh, god."

"Should we quicken the pace of our research?"

"Stop him."

"I'll dip my toe in the water–"

"Kill him."

"–See if I can make strides in the right direction."

"Kill me."

"Don't worry," Ron smirked, "we'll step up our game."

"Harry, hand me your wand."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm going to put myself out of my misery. But I want people to think you did it."

Harry just rolled his eyes, smiling slightly, and returned to his homework.

"What?" Ron asked innocently. "That was completely punintentional– I mean, unintentional." He grinned broadly as Malfoy's head clunked loudly onto the desk in front of him.

It was only later, once Harry had pulled his head from his essay and they were walking back from the library, that he registered Malfoy had actually called him Harry. And not followed it up with 'bloody Potter'.

  
~ • ~

  
Now this Harry should be used to. He'd showered with other guys since school began, had used the communal Quidditch showers, and he and Malfoy even had a conveniently placed modesty curtain between them now, separating each side of the large shower cubicle. But from the awkward stance they both had to adopt so as not to slip, to the slim silhouette on the other side of the curtain, this was absolutely nothing like a normal shower.

The splashing echoed loudly around the bathroom and Harry couldn't understand why he was finding it so difficult to ignore the shadowy movements of Malfoy's figure beside him. It more than likely had something to do with the fact that he was painfully aware that his wand was nowhere near him, but Malfoy was. It was that surely. Not because they were both totally naked standing next to...well, _adjoined_ to each other.

His eyes swung forcefully to his left as he caught, in his peripheral vision, the shadow of Malfoy's arms swing down to his hips. Harry froze for a moment, wondering if this would be a watery repeat of the previous evening, but Malfoy just washed himself and left it at that.

"You done?" Draco asked blandly.

Harry jolted and then realised he'd spent most of his shower just watching Malfoy instead of actually washing.

"Uh, almost. Just give me a minute," he said, hastily lathering up his hands and scrubbing them through his hair. He heard a chuckle from the curtain.

"Never thought you'd be a shower hog. Whatever beauty treatment you're trying with your hair, I'll tell you now: it isn't working." Harry ignored him.

Once he'd covered the essentials in record time, they both grabbed their towels and dried themselves off, before pulling back the curtain to exit the shower. It was as they moved towards the double door to exit the bathroom that the light caught on something that glinted subtly to his left and drew Harry's attention.

A silvery line. Not just one. A criss-cross pattern of shiny slash marks wove across Malfoy's pale chest, still covered in droplets from the shower. One scar ran all the way from hip to sternum, another sweeping in a curved arc across his left pectoral, barely missing his nipple and finishing just at the ridge of his clavicle. Most of them looked smooth, actually fairly subtle if you weren't looking for them, but two or three were far more obvious, slightly raised against the smooth, hairless skin. There had to be dozens of them.

"Don't vomit on me."

"What?!" Harry's eyes snapped back up and he realised he'd been standing, gawking at his handiwork on Malfoy's torso, while Malfoy himself just stood there.

"You've gone green," Malfoy continued in a consciencously bored voice. Harry swallowed painfully.

"Yeah, I– it's the first time I've... I thought Snape said they wouldn't scar."

He received a derisive look and a raised eyebrow in return. "Guess you did a better job than you realised," Draco said, bitterly. Harry's stomach really did feel like it might eject his dinner then.

"Sorry," he said, feebly.

"Ha! Sorry _now_ , are you? Now that it's right in front of your face. Bet you forgot all about it until this minute. Am I right?"

"Sort of," Harry admitted guiltily, looking away and feeling the blood return to his face in a burning flush.

"Well lucky you, I get reminded every time I take off my shirt." Malfoy swung his left arm up to the door and the Dark Mark stood out starkly on his pale skin. "Just like I also get reminded of my mistakes every time I step out into the castle. I'm so glad _you_ can forget, Potter."

With that Malfoy made to push the door open and Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. Somehow the dark blot on Malfoy's left arm was less eye catching than the shiny lines slicing across his chest.

"I really am sorry," said Harry. " _Really_." He felt Malfoy's bony forearm twist in his grip and he loosened it but didn't let go. He also didn't look away from the cold grey eyes in front of him.

"Sorry," he repeated again. "I should've said that two years ago."

Malfoy frowned, looked down, and then surprised the hell out of Harry with what he said next.

"And I apologise for trying to use an Unforgivable on you. And...the rest of it," he finished quietly.

The two of them stood in heavy silence for a moment, apparently just letting all that sink in. After a minute there was a small cough.

"Do you think I could have my arm back now?" Malfoy asked dryly. Harry started and released his hold on Malfoy's wrist. They pushed open the doors and stumped over to their pyjamas, which lay waiting for them on the dresser. As before Harry averted his eyes as they changed, but he was, if possible, now even more aware of every move of Malfoy's partially clothed body.

"Has anyone ever told you you get absolutely boiling when you sleep?" Malfoy asked as they edged up to the bed to climb in awkwardly.

"Well, I don't normally wear a pyjama top," Harry huffed, settling himself back against the pillows. He wouldn't wear anything at all if he didn't have dorm-mates.

"Me neither. It was sweltering last night. But I suppose now you've seen, it doesn't matter," Malfoy said matter-of-factly, and nonchalantly pulled off his light grey jersey top, throwing it back over to the dresser. He looked at Harry who had raised his eyebrows. "You can take yours off too. No point in us both being even more uncomfortable than we already are."

Finding little to argue with there, Harry unbuttoned his shirt and slung it across the room to land back on top of the dresser as well, before they shimmied down underneath the covers. They both reached for the lamps and extinguished them. Harry thought back to their moment in the bathroom.

It hadn't been much, really. Not compared to the years and years of awfulness between them. But, Harry thought as he shifted to get more comfortable and felt their leg-join pull, if that was all they ever said about any of it, it was probably enough. He'd got an actual apology out of Draco Malfoy and that was most definitely not nothing.

He pushed his pillow into a more comfortable shape and lay back to go to sleep.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry was going to scream. Malfoy would not. Stop. Fidgeting!

"Go to sleep, Malfoy," grumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now the Mighty Saviour has decreed it, I'll just suddenly make it happen then," Malfoy sniped back, any trace of civility he'd exhibited earlier that evening apparently evaporated.

Harry sighed. "What's wrong?"

"What's this? Concern?" asked Malfoy in mock surprise.

"No, it's just I can feel your restlessness kind of buzzing through the connection. Not to mention every single time you fucking fidget. So, in the interests of my own sanity, what's wrong? And can we fix it?"

"Oh, I know the problem, I have trouble sleeping these days. And how I normally fix it...well, you already know the answer to that one."

Harry frowned before realising what Malfoy meant. "Oh, Christ," he sighed out.

"Precisely."

They lay for minute not speaking.

"Okay, I have an idea," said Harry breaking the silence.

"The world holds its breath," snarked Malfoy.

"You want to hear it or not?"

"Fine, go on."

"You can...can do what you need to do. I give you my permission or whatever. And I'll lie here with my eyes closed and cast a Muffliato so we can't hear each other. Sound fair?"

"Potter, you can cast whatever spells you like you're still going to _feel_ everything I do!"

"If I Stun myself?"

"A high risk you'd Stun me too."

"Well, that's one way to get to sleep."

"Potter, no stunning!"

Another awkward beat. Malfoy then sighed, irritated, shifting again in place and pulling at the skin joining them.

"Okay, your first idea it is."

Harry's stomach jolted a bit. In the pitch dark he couldn't tell if the tingles of excitement in his groin were because Malfoy had already begun touching himself or for...other reasons...

"Not such a bad idea then?" Harry huffed out, trying not to get too twitchy anticipating what was to come.

"It's a terrible idea, really. Probably an atrocious one."

"Then why–?"

"Because I'm tired and we're teenagers, Potter. We make bad decisions and we think with our dicks."

"I thought you'd consider yourself above all that."

"Well, believe it or not, I kind of _want_ to be a normal teenager who just thinks with his dick. Particularly right now."

"...okay," Harry shrugged eventually, choosing not to dig into that statement. "As long as we're both going to regret it equally."

"I make it a point to try not to regret sex. Bad form."

"It's not sex, Malfoy," said Harry bluntly.

"Of course," he replied shortly. "Even though I will be giving you an orgasm. I tend to count that as sex."

Harry sighed loudly. Why did Malfoy have to keep talking about it? Why couldn't he just get on and do it so they could both go to sleep?

"Look, since we're going to be doing this anyway, I don't see why you couldn't reciprocate from your end."

Harry froze. "I–"

"What difference will it make on the whole? Apart from potentially making it even better for both of us, hm?"

And, whether it was because it was late, because he was already a bit hard, or because the talisman actually had knocked a few brain cells loose, Harry...couldn't really argue with that logic.

"Alright," said Harry, shunting down his pyjama bottoms to mid thigh before he could lose his nerve. There was utter stillness from Malfoy for a moment, before Harry heard the rustle of him doing the same.

Harry also heard, rather than felt the first move of Malfoy's hand under the covers. But he did feel the surge in his cock a second later. That was confusing.

It wasn't like it felt the same as having Malfoy's hand on his skin, it wasn't external, it was just this warm sensation of pleasure. Like what his brain was receiving was the chemical message saying 'this part of you feels good but you don't know why!'. Well, except now Harry knew why. It was...unusual to say the least.

Harry was more than half hard now, and, with lessening trepidation, he slid his hand down his belly to wrap around his length. He went easy to start with, just gently kneading himself to full hardness (which took no time at all really, given the dual stimulation) and trying not to actively listen to the breathing next to him.

But the moment he gave himself the first hard, full stroke, rubbing his thumb over the head, he couldn't _not_ hear the sharp gasp from his left – and he knew exactly why Malfoy had made that noise. The low level pressure in his groin, already almost satisfying enough, had doubled as he'd pumped his fist. He did it again. Another breath in the dark, this time ending with a soft moan.

Harry was a bit scared of the things those sounds did to his insides.

A few waves of intensity flowed through him which he didn't think were his. He parried them with some smooth, firm tugging of his own, and his brain seemed left way behind as his body flew away with all of it. The heady sensations swirled becoming indecipherable.

"This is really..."

"Good?" came Malfoy's breathy voice, sounding a lot closer than Harry remembered.

"Confusing," Harry replied, equally breathless.

"Huh?" Malfoy panted, "Feels pretty damn good to me."

"It does, it's just– I can't tell which feeling is yours and which is mine, and they're just kind of spiralling into each other... _Merlin!"_ Harry arched off the bed as a sudden rush of euphoria slammed into him. He'd been right, this felt twice as fucking intense! Trying to maintain motor function while simultaneously feeling two people's worth of arousal was a mammoth task.

He powered all his concentration into the movement of his right hand; up and down, twist a bit, run finger just under the head...

A glorious squeeze of pressure came up from his balls, which caused him to stifle a grunt. It continued, deep and satisfying. Malfoy must be...fucking hell...

Harry's –or was it Draco's?– orgasm was closing in rapidly. There was no way of delaying this, no way of making this whole thing last a bit longer, so Harry just went for broke and sped up his fist, jacking himself hard and fast, while the ridiculously intense pleasure emanating from his bollocks continued. It was almost too much. Almost.

As they reached the peak of it all, as they crested their climax together, an embarrassing yell was ripped from Harry's throat. He couldn't control it! He defied anyone to be able to stay quiet while experiencing _this!_ And sure enough his wasn't the only cry that filled the room. Malfoy's was more a cut off kind of wail, though it still lanced through Harry's awareness like it had been screamed directly into his ear.

The roiling, spinning euphoria continued and hot wet splashes hit Harry's chest and chin. Squeezing and rubbing, he chased down the aftershocks, and shuddered as he sensed Malfoy doing the same. It went on for an eternity, possibly longer than they'd been building up to their orgasm, with this feedback loop of sensation. A loud, rapid thudding was within Harry's head and, after the stupefying effect on his brain had lessened a bit, he realised it was his heart beat. No, not just his – Malfoy's too. That was...really bloody weird.

It seemed they both decided when to stop touching themselves at the same time, and Harry let his arms fall to the side, then just melted into the bed feeling like he was made of lead. He knew he couldn't go to sleep before removing the come splattered up his torso (it had travelled pretty damn far) but he just lay there for a while, enjoying the boneless satiation that suffused him.

That had been...the phrase mind-blowing seemed appropriate. The fact that he'd shared it with Draco Malfoy of all people was...less than perfect maybe, but still. Mind-blowing.

"You're right, I can't regret that," mumbled Harry into the quiet. There was no response. "Malfoy?"

The slow, deep, rhythmic breathing clued him in: Malfoy had quite clearly passed out. Harry chuckled lightly to himself, retrieved his wand and cleaned them both up with a quick spell. Still floating on the wonderful post-orgasm giddiness, he pulled up his pyjamas and snuggled in a bit closer to the dip on the left side of the bed that was radiating warmth and snoring softly.

  
~ • ~

  
The next morning demonstrated that, whatever they might say in bathrooms or do in the dark at night, Malfoy wasn't going to acknowledge anything had happened or act differently in any way during the day.

This would have been a relief if Malfoy's usual behaviour wasn't so spectacularly dickish. He spent the morning bitching about Harry's grooming, dressing, and eating habits, then proceeded to go off on a small rant about how Harry should go about fixing all of those and just generally be a less catastrophic person. After a solid morning of this Harry began gazing wistfully at the lake through the windows and fantasising about hurling them both into it – he was sure if he attached rocks to their shoes they'd go down no problem.

Nevertheless, Harry was glad that Malfoy wasn't bringing up what he considered to be very private, and that they hadn't descended into awkward silences outside of their excruciating toilet visits.

Harry may be able to (kind of) ignore the memories of what they'd done in bed quite easily but he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the stares that he and Malfoy got as they hobbled around the school. They'd started out surprised, but as time wore on, morphed into something different. To start with, Harry tried to blank them, but he found that if the student or students noticed he'd seen them, their demeanour immediately changed and they would normally desist. But the muttering that would accompany the stares was definitely of the unpleasant variety.

"Wonder what their problem is," muttered Harry, annoyed, as they passed a couple of hissing fourth years.

"Me."

"Huh?"

"I'm their problem. Most of the school believes I should be locked up."

"So that's why all the staring and whispering?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm used to it by now. Barely even notice it anymore."

Maybe the stupid physical connection was starting to let in feelings too, because this...this was surely not normal. This wave of sympathy for Malfoy.

Harry had been the recipient of crap like that on and off for years but it had never been quite this...hostile. The looks Malfoy received made Harry genuinely worry for his safety. Before realising he was _worried for Malfoy's safety_ – that had to be one for the history books. Although Harry rationalised that, until they were separated, it was really his own safety too, and that was likely why he was worried. Obviously.

But Harry spent the rest of that day painfully aware of each disgruntled utterance, each cruel sidelong look. He got the feeling Malfoy did too.

In unspoken agreement, they headed to the Gryffindor table that day, and simply at the look Hermione gave them Harry could tell that she'd got no closer to figuring out how or why they were stuck like this. With a sigh they took their seats. Harry gazed despondently at the array of food in front of him. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite. He noticed Malfoy didn't reach for anything either.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked after swallowing an inhumanly large mouthful of potato. Harry shrugged, his elbow knocking against Malfoy's. "You two shouldn't be _skipping_ meals," he went on, smirking around his fork.

"They're getting a big forced, mate," said Harry.

"I refuse to stop making the most of the bounty that has been set before me. Anyway, don't dance around the subject–" Harry scowled and Malfoy scowled even harder "–you should eat." Ron pushed a plate of roast chicken over to them and Harry glanced at Malfoy. He gave a halfhearted kind of nod and they set to filling their plates.

Harry glanced up and caught Ron and Hermione giving them both quizzical looks. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," said Hermione quickly and busied herself with her own dinner.

"Don't 'nothing' me, come on, out with it!"

"You're kind of...echoing each other's mood, that's all," she said, looking up. "It's a bit strange. Before now I'd have thought it that if Draco was in a bad mood it would have cheered you up, Harry. But I suppose this is normal if you're joined together?"

"Nothing about this is normal," chimed in Malfoy, not looking up from his plate. Harry had to agree with him.

After they had finished their dinner, he and Malfoy chose to work on their homework away from the other students, at the desk in the quiet of their room. The longer they worked, sequestered in solitude, the more relaxed Draco seemed to become, and Harry was glad for it. Malfoy hadn't exactly been in the best of moods for the last three days but Harry could really do without him moping. By the time they decided to go to bed, Malfoy was back to complaining about Harry's habits as usual, and Harry found that oddly reassuring.

  
~ • ~

  
They fell into a workable routine. Days alternated between sitting at the Slytherin or Gryffindor tables for meals, classes were attended as per usual, with both of them simply doing homework in the lessons that they would normally have free. Their showering and toilet visits became less utterly mortifying until it was just the norm to cast a Muffliato and wait until the other was done, although if they were peeing it seemed they could chat during and not be bothered by it.

Each day Harry would ask Hermione hopefully if she'd had any luck at all with translating the enigmatic talisman and each day the answer would be a disheartening, but optimistically phrased, "Not yet."

And every night...

Well, every single night they lay down, turned out the lights, and the room would echo with their laboured breaths, their panted moans and their cries of ecstasy. It should have been disconcerting how quickly Harry not only got over how weird it was, wanking with Malfoy, but also how much he came to expect it, and look forward to it.

"Doesn't this feel a bit like a bad idea?" he'd asked the third time they settled in to do it.

"Seriously?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"You're telling me you don't have this all-consuming, deep-seated, bone-scraping sense that maybe we...shouldn't?"

"Does it _feel_ like I think that?" At the word _feel_ there was a surge of tingles in Harry's crotch. He closed his eyes and groaned quietly.

"Hard to think when you do that."

"That's kind of the point, Potter. Stop thinking, you're normally so good at that."

And so Harry did indeed stop thinking too hard about it.

He thought more about other stuff though. Like that Malfoy might say he didn't notice the awful stares, but that his tension levels went through the roof whenever they left their bedroom sanctuary and ventured into the school. About the fact that Malfoy didn't even try to talk to anyone outside of Parkinson, Zabini and Goyle – except for Harry of course, but that was obviously through circumstance over anything else.

He thought about the rift between Slytherin and the other houses, and how it seemed to have only gotten deeper since the war. He thought about what it revealed of Harry himself that he wasn't actually hating this constant exposure to Malfoy as much as he should. Or, really, at all. It grated a bit, for sure, but it was not the utter bloodbath he'd been dreading. And when he wasn't bitching about Harry's shortcomings (usually in the style and manners department) Malfoy could actually be quite fun conversation. Even his bitching was now sort of comfortingly familiar.

Basically, Harry thought about Malfoy a lot. So what was new, really?

  
~ • ~

  
Harry had woken up on the fifth morning curled around a bony body. There was, of course, only one person to whom that body could possibly belong, but it still took a fair while for his early morning shrouded thought process to twig this. Harry stiffened up, feeling ruddy awkward as he tried to shuffle backwards and away from the sleeping Slytherin.

Mercifully, it seemed as though this hadn't roused Malfoy and Harry breathed easy again. Sadly, that was not the only time it was to happen.

When it happened again the next morning and again, albeit reversed, the morning after that, Harry started to find himself caring less about it. Hell, he'd already gone to the toilet, changed, and climaxed repeatedly in Malfoy's company, what would a bit of functional spooning hurt anyway at this point? It's not like anyone could see them. And if Malfoy had woken up to find them cuddling at any point he wasn't mentioning it either, or raising any objections.

It was easy to validate, then, the fact that on the seventh night, after they had come, cleaned up, and Malfoy had gone quiet, that Harry himself tangled their legs together and tugged Malfoy's arm to rest over his waist. There were, after all, no complaints from the body behind him.

  
~ • ~

  
"No."

"Come on, just for a bit."

"Not even if you paid me."

"We could hang out in the Slytherin common room tomorrow, I just want to spend some time with my friends!"

"And you've just articulated the precise reason I don't want to go."

"You play chess don't you? You could have a game with Ron."

"You're meant to be offering me incentives, Potter, do you really think _that_ is one?"

"Alright we can...we can... _you know_ in the morning as well if you like?"

"...fine. But if I hear one more leg related pun fall out of Weasley's mouth I swear to Merlin I will hex _his_ legs off then set Gryffindor Tower on fire."

"Jeez, you are such a drama queen."

"Don't test me, Scarhead."

  
~ • ~

  
The weekend rolled around, and Harry and Draco were still firmly stuck with each other. It had been over a week now. But having a Malfoy as a permanent attachment wasn't going to stop Harry doing some of the things he felt were essential to his school life.

"Really, Potter?"

"It's not a school year at Hogwarts without a nighttime excursion under the Invisibility Cloak!" Harry proclaimed, smiling and brandishing the silvery Cloak with a flourish. "Plus I'm ravenous."

Slowly, and surely with plenty of their ankles showing, Harry and Malfoy made their way down to the painting of the bowl of fruit, tickled the pear, and stepped into the warm, enormous Hogwarts kitchen. It being late, there were only a few House Elves still up, but Harry recognised the first one to come shuffling up to them at once as they made themselves visible again.

"Master Malfoy, Master Potter, what is you doing here so late and with three feet?" croaked Kreacher, looking sternly between them and their legs.

"I'm starving, Kreacher, you wouldn't happen to have any desserts left from dinner would you? Maybe some treacle tart?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Oh, that's my favourite," said Malfoy.

"Mine too," said Harry, slightly surprised. He turned back to Kreacher. "Well?"

Kreacher surveyed him sharply, over his snout-like nose. "We only has one left," he said and he hurried away – as fast as an elf that ancient could – to fetch the plate of tart. Once he'd returned, he paused for only a fraction of a second before handing the plate over to Malfoy, then scurried away again.

"Trust my House Elf to like you more than me," muttered Harry tersely, watching Kreacher's hastily retreating back.

Draco just smirked widely as he made deliberate eye contact with Harry and lifted the slice of tart smugly up to his mouth. With a speed born from his Seeker training, Harry whipped out his hand, snatched the treacle tart from Malfoy's fingers and immediately took an enormous bite out of it.

"Hey!"

Harry handed what remained of it back, grinning as he chewed his gigantic mouthful, cheeks bulging with the sweet pastry. Victory tasted damn good. Draco shook his head in semi-genuine annoyance.

"You are a thieving wanker."

"Ahm helphing oo luhn to phare," fluffed Harry through his mouthful of tart, still smiling.

"I feel I'm learning to share quite enough of my life already, thank you very much, it doesn't have to include my precious desserts," Draco sniffed, nose in the air. Harry gulped down what he'd been chewing.

"Quit complaining and enjoy the rest of it, you whinge-bag," Harry said good-naturedly, nudging his elbow against Malfoy's. After receiving a haughty look, Draco did indeed proceed to eat the rest of the treacle tart in a far more couth fashion than Harry had.

Harry watched as a few crumbs fell onto the front of Draco's top and some sticky treacle left a shiny smear on his lower lip. When his tongue darted out to lick it off, Harry suddenly came back to himself and hastily called Kreacher over to ask for a cup of water. His mouth had gone a bit dry. Due to the treacle tart, of course.

The next day at dinner, after the main course had disappeared, Harry couldn't help but notice the increased amount of treacle tart that appeared on the Slytherin table along with the other puddings. He looked over to Draco, and they shared an amused smile.

  
~ • ~

  
It had been a buzzy day. Some days were just like that; tension, or nerves, or excitement, or whatever would flow through Harry and, presumably, Draco too and there was no way to stop it. Harry didn't know what the other boy was feeling or thinking but some days just held a certain kind of energy for them both. It had been a buzzy day.

Malfoy hadn't seemed in a bad mood at all, or acted out of the ordinary, at least not until that night. As they lay, working themselves up in the dark, Harry heard the clatter of a bedside table being opened and what sounded like something being taken out. He faltered in his rhythm, confused.

"Keep going," came the whispered instruction from beside him, and Harry complied but was still confused as to why Malfoy had stopped.

After a lot of shuffling next to him, their joint foot pushing as if Malfoy was trying to raise himself up, then a breath on Harry's left shoulder, as Malfoy positioned his head obviously facing Harry.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as the breathing next to him quickened.

"Just keep going," was the reply, voice sounding a bit more strained than it had done a few moments ago. Again, Harry acquiesced, slowly but firmly moving his hand up and down his cock. This went on for a while, Harry trying not to think too much about why this was going differently, or what Malfoy was doing with his ha–

Harry gasped aloud!

Something inside him, something _deep_ inside him, felt really,  _really_...off. It happened again. A pressing, almost burning, weird as fuck feeling somewhere behind his bladder. It was so intense that Harry's hands halted immediately, one reactively clutching at the bedding.

"Please, keep going," Malfoy pleaded breathily next to him.

Harry had a suspicion. "Malfoy, are you–?"

"Yes."

There was a gentle rocking from the left side of the bed and, yet again, that wave of feeling suffused him. It had started as just plain weird, but with each repeated surge it clearly started to become something weirdly good. A particularly intense pulse caused both he and Malfoy to gasp in unison. Harry's hips were moving, seemingly trying to encourage the sensation, even though it wasn't his and there was no physical way he could.

"Keep going, Harry."

Breathing heavily, Harry put his right hand back on his erection and began to pump steadily, his grip tightening involuntarily when a new wave of internal intensity hit him. There was a low, strangled moan from Malfoy, and once again the noise shot down Harry's nervous system as surely as the feelings being derived from whatever Malfoy was doing to himself.

Fucking himself, Harry stated clearly in his own head. Malfoy was using his fingers, or something else, to fuck himself up the arse and the more Harry thought about that, the closer he found himself to climaxing. Jesus, if this was what taking it up the arse felt like, Harry couldn't understand why everyone wasn't doing it all the fucking time!

The pounding waves of pleasure sped up, as did their breathy pants and moans, each exhale of Malfoy's hitting the skin of Harry's left shoulder in a warm huff, peppering it with goosebumps. Harry picked up the pace of his wrist, but he was starting to lose it. Everything was becoming too much. Too much stimulation, physically, _mentally_.

" _Faster_ ," came the almost inaudible grunt from beside him, and Harry almost came right then. He was so bloody close now, and when he summoned all his willpower to stroke himself, hard and fast to the finish line there was an answering increase in the speed of Malfoy's thrusting. And then...

Harry came so hard he almost lost consciousness. But then he came again. And again. And again. And a-fucking-gain! At least that's what it felt like. Each punch of pleasure as intense as the first, winding him into silence, with his breath caught high in his throat, head reared back.

Malfoy's hand had swung out to grasp at something during the unbelievable orgasm and that something happened to be Harry's chest, his long fingers slipping in the fresh splash of come that had shot up and landed there. His nails dug in as a fresh wave of euphoria hit them both, and their voices seemed to return at this point as they let out near identical moans followed by sighs of disbelieving astonishment. Harry gasped, desperately trying to catch his breath, embarrassing little whimpers being forced from his throat with the aftershocks.

Fuck.

Fuck, that was... _fuck_.

"Fuck," Harry whispered out. And, heedless of the semen spattered up and down his body, of the warm hand still clutching his chest, he passed out.

  
~ • ~

  
The next morning was...possibly one of the most awkward yet. Harry couldn't decide whether they'd crossed a line or not. He supposed they should maybe talk about it, but Malfoy had told him not to think too hard about it so maybe talking was also off the table too.

He'd woken up in Malfoy's arms again, well, technically Malfoy had been in his arms, lying on his chest, which had been thankfully cleaned of spunk. He was sort of glad he was being discouraged from thinking too hard about this, it made it simpler to ignore the fact that he'd pretended to be asleep long after he'd actually awoken just so that he could keep Malfoy lying on him a bit longer. But finally Malfoy had woken up and shifted himself off Harry, meaning he could pretend no longer.

Malfoy didn't catch his eye once before breakfast, neither did they speak. Which was probably for the best, because Harry was having some...issues. Issues that he couldn't talk to anyone about. Not only because he had a constant companion there to eavesdrop but also because said companion was the one causing these issues, and Harry didn't have the first bloody clue of how to talk to his friends about them.

Harry was a little terrified of what the previous night had meant. What it meant that he'd liked it so much. Surely that indicated that he was– but it wasn't like he judged Malfoy for liking it, or for doing it. On the contrary, he was a little bit in awe of how adventurous he was willing to be, obviously secure enough in himself to do _that_ even with Harry in the room.

And then there was the fact that Harry couldn't banish the noises Malfoy had made from his memory. They replayed, over and over. During class, during meals, while they showered – which had a fairly mortifying and...prominent side effect. Adjusting his towel or trousers to be more camouflaging was difficult to do without Malfoy cottoning on, and he really didn't want to be called up on it by the smug git.

That night did not see a replay of the same activities. Malfoy was back to just jacking off like Harry was and it was great, of course, but it was still a little...disappointing.

  
~ • ~

  
At day eleven, Harry was starting to worry that this would simply be his life from now on. That he was doomed to live out the rest of his days as a three legged shambling monstrosity with added Malfoy.

"Don't worry," said Hermione for what seemed like the thousandth time. "I am working on it, and we will find an answer." That was starting to feel a little bit like a lie.

That evening was the agreed upon social time in the Snake Pit as Harry was referring to it, and he was almost okay with it, except for all of the fucking staring, which was still going on, albeit with a slightly different...feel to it. Far from people staring less as time went on, they seemed to be watching them even more closely as each day passed. Specifically, right now, all of the students in the Slytherin common room.

"Okay. They must be sick of looking at us by now," Harry grumbled, glancing about.

"They're trying to see how angry you are," replied Parkinson, casually.

"What? Why?"

"You don't know?"

"No."

" _Really?"_

"Obviously we don't, Pansy, so stop playing coy and give us the damn answer," snapped Malfoy. Parkinson's eyes glinted with ill-disguised glee.

"There's a bet running. Been running since the day after you got smushed together, on how long it'll take you to get separated, or–" Parkinson smirked "–when exactly you two will do each other in for good." Malfoy looked gobsmacked. "I'm surprised you didn't know already, to be honest, even a few of the teachers have got in on it, although obviously he won't disclose which ones."

"He?" snarled Malfoy.

"The bookie," said Pansy, clearly loving each second of torment.

"And just who the hell is the bookie?"

"You rang?" came Zabini's voice as he swaggered up to them and dropped onto the couch, leaning with a lazy elegance against the arm of it.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "And you call yourself my friend," he said, shaking his head.

"I call myself unlucky, you've both gone _way_ past the date I'd put my money on," he scowled. "You two are proving far less homicidal about this than I'd anticipated."

"Sorry to rain on your parade," said Malfoy, not looking sorry at all.

"How the pair of you are even managing is beyond me," said Zabini, perfectly shaped eyebrows raising.

"Now that we're up to our ankles in it I'd say maybe we've...found some common ground," Harry said, keeping as straight a face as he could.

Parkinson snorted, Zabini smirked and Draco rounded on Harry, looking deeply wounded.

" _Et tu_ , Potty?! I thought we'd escaped terrible Gryffindor puns for tonight!"

"It was right there, and Ron's not here! Gotta keep up the side," said Harry breaking out into a grin. The three of them laughed as Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. Harry was quite proud of himself for making the Slytherins laugh, it felt like an achievement.

"That's it, we're leaving," pronounced Malfoy. Hoisting himself, then Harry by the arm, up off the couch and he directed their feet out of the common room. "Farewell, traitors," he called back over his shoulder to Zabini and Parkinson, who were still chuckling.

"Love you too, Draco," called Parkinson after them.

"Bit early for bed isn't it?" Harry said as they walked. They really were rather good at it now.

"We're going flying," said Malfoy.

"Why? _How?"_ asked Harry, confused, but following Malfoy (like he had a choice) out of the dungeons and in the direction of the Entrance Hall.

"We're going flying because I'm getting withdrawal symptoms, but mainly, it's to stop you from devolving to the level of Weasley. As for how, well I've got an idea. We'll...see if works," he finished, unsurely.

Malfoy's idea turned out to be rigging two school brooms together – he point blank refused to try this with his own broom – with two struts between them, just wide enough so that they could both mount the contraption to apparently fly them simultaneously. Harry had so many misgivings about this it was hard to pinpoint them all.

"You expect this to work?" asked Harry incredulously, eyeing up the braced brooms sceptically.

"Unbunch your undies, Potter, we're not going to go flying over the castle, just a test run close to the ground. Sound alright?"

"Ummm...."

"Come on, Chosen One, show us a bit of that infamous Gryffindor courage - hopefully it's better than your Gryffindor puns."

It turned out to be a complete disaster.

No matter how much they tried to steer the brooms in the same direction, a simple loop around the pitch, they still ended up yanking against each other, throwing the other off course, or responding a bit too late and jerking the whole thing too far. They persevered for a while until one jerkily turned corner caused the linked brooms to buck, swivel, and both he and Malfoy slipped from them and tumbled in a pile onto the soft, muddy ground. Their leg had been yanked quite harshly and was aching at the join.

Harry sat up, filthy from the mud, and turned to look at Malfoy who was, to Harry's utter astonishment, in peals laughter.

"We were so shit!" he gasped.

"Apparently our combined talents weren't enough to make that ridiculous contraption work," jibed Harry, amused. It started to speckle with rain.

"Oh well," Malfoy chuckled, still lying on the squelchy grass, "guess we should keep our feet planted firmly on the ground."

Harry's jaw dropped. "That. Was. Weak."

Malfoy held in his laughter for a few seconds more as they just looked at each other - then he was laughing, uproariously, with his whole body, head thrown back getting mud streaked in his white-blonde hair, oblivious to the drizzle. And it was so vastly unlike him, so totally different to the armour he had on ninety-nine percent of the time that Harry was floored. Until the giggles got contagious, and he found himself uncontrollably laughing along too.

And so they laughed. Laughed like a couple of madmen, lying on the grass of the Quidditch pitch getting damp and filthy, until they finally remembered that lying in mud was gross and uncomfortable. They helped each other up and headed slowly back into the castle for a shower.

Plenty of odd looks came their way as they walked, dirt splattered from head to foot back through the castle, and Harry couldn't help wondering if it would change people's bets at all. During their shower, from either side of the curtain, both of them would occasionally let slip the odd chuckle.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry was so comfortable, he would be happy never to move from this spot. His mind may still be half asleep, but he was prepared to call it: Comfiest. Position. Ever.

The duvet behind him shifted slightly, enveloping him more snugly into its warm embrace. It shifted again, a flat, hand shaped thing splaying across Harry's chest and nudged him further into consciousness. What really, properly pushed him there, however, was the breath that ruffled his hair as a sinuous roll pressed something long and firm between his buttocks.

Harry's eyes flew open.

Another breath fluttered the tendrils of hair at the base of his neck, this time followed by the faintest of moans as Malfoy's hips urged into him once more. They were both wearing boxers, but this was the first time he'd actually made contact with Malfoy's... Holy crap, he was  _really_ hard. And of course, this meant that Harry was hard too.

He was lying mostly on his front, Malfoy plastered against his back, arms wound so securely around him that Harry had no chance of slipping away, and with each roll of his hips Malfoy pressed Harry's boxer-clad erection into the mattress below him. It felt disturbingly great. Not to mention the extra boost Harry got from Malfoy's own pleasure.

The thrusting sped up; Malfoy's mouth was open and huffing hot breaths against Harry's shoulders, making plaintiff whimpers, the kind of sounds that Harry was sure he'd never make if he were fully compos mentis. But they were so desperate, so needy, so unbearably, honestly erotic that Harry couldn't help but let out his own answering noises each time his cock got pushed into the firm mattress beneath him. A tongue swiped the skin of his shoulder, a messy scrape of teeth shortly after that set his nerve endings alight. Harry wasn't far off now, so close–

The rocking stopped. The noises stopped. Even the breathing stopped as the body behind him froze like it had been stupefied.

Malfoy had woken up.

They lay, totally still for what must have been only a few seconds but felt like whole hours. The hand wrapped around Harry's abdomen loosened and Malfoy swiftly made to pull away. Instinctively, Harry threw a hand back and grasped onto Malfoy's backside, pulling it back against Harry's own – he realised too late that this might not be the most welcome course of action and waited with baited breath for Malfoy's reaction. When nothing happened immediately Harry threw caution to the wind and arched his back to rub his arse against Malfoy's crotch.

Letting loose a harsh breath, Malfoy's hand swept down to clutch onto Harry's waist and started thrusting again with vigour, pressing Harry firmly into the mattress and bringing back the heady pleasure Harry had been swimming in. Malfoy's fingertips felt like they were searing into his skin.

Harry lowered his face into the pillow and wedged his hand under himself, grabbing and holding his throbbing dick as they rocked harder together. The pressure against the back of his boxers had grown and the hardness of Malfoy's cock grazed closer and closer to Harry's hole, which...fuck it felt _good_. Scary, but _so_ good!

Malfoy's uninhibited whimpers hadn't returned but Harry could feel them being stifled into his skin as Malfoy's face dropped onto the back of his shoulders. Harry was almost there, Malfoy was rutting him frantically, panting fast, fingers gripping painfully tight on his hips, their shared foot braced against the mattress for leverage. So Harry clenched. Clenched his cheeks hard around the length sat between them. The noises from behind Harry went up about an octave, and two arrhythmic thrusts later, he was exploding into his underwear, face turned into the pillow to stifle his hoarse yell of " _fuck!"_

Fuck, fuck, and double fuck! Harry's eyes had clenched so hard he was seeing stars behind his lids. He was trembling. Malfoy was trembling. There was a lot of trembling. He could feel the wet material of Malfoy's boxers pressed up against his cleft and he was too fucked out to remember to find it gross. He wiggled his hips lazily and they both shuddered in unison at the echoes of pleasure it caused.

Harry only realised how heavy Malfoy actually was when he pulled himself, panting, up off Harry and rolled onto his back, causing Harry to to do the same to position their foot more comfortably. They lay side by side catching their breath in silence for an awfully long time. Time that gave Harry's brain opportunity to fully process what they'd just done. Which in hindsight was suspiciously close to humping. But no, they'd still not touched each other's dicks. Nothing had gone _into_ anything else, Harry's arse had just been a...a masturbation aid. Like the mattress below Harry had been. Looked at like that it wasn't any worse than what they'd been doing every single other night for the last two weeks, surely?

And honestly, it had been so good that his head was still reeling a little. He chanced a look over towards Malfoy – who was already staring at Harry. He looked a bit...shell shocked. But in that Malfoy way that hid it behind an almost unreadable mask, which Harry found he was getting quite adept at seeing through. Malfoy turned to stare back up at the canopy.

"We should shower," he intoned, simply.

"Yeah," breathed out Harry, not knowing what the hell to say, do, or feel.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry could still feel Malfoy's lips on the skin of his shoulder underneath his school shirt hours later. He could still feel the swipe of his tongue on the same bit of skin. He could still feel his warm, moist breath on the back of his neck. And he'd showered, for fucks sake!

They sat on the sofa in their room, a blazing fire before them, with Harry trying to read his Charms textbook and having little success. Malfoy sat doing the same with his Transfiguration book. The silences they inhabited had evolved so gradually from appalling to comfortable, that Harry only really just twigged onto it now. In spite of his prickling skin, this was very comfortable.

He glanced over to Malfoy, head resting on one hand as he read, hair glowing in the firelight and falling in front of his face. The skin of Harry's shoulder felt like it might be glowing the same shade of gold as Malfoy's hair.

Harry closed his textbook with a thump, deciding he was absorbing none of the information therein. To his surprise, Malfoy did the same a second later.

"What's the first thing you're going to do once we're separated?" Harry asked apropos of nothing, twisting his body more towards Malfoy.

Malfoy set aside his book, seemed to deliberate seriously for a second before simply saying, "Sit cross-legged."

Harry laughed. "Really? That's your answer?"

"Well I do almost everything else I'd normally do with you anyway! And I like sitting cross-legged, which I absolutely cannot do with you stuck to me."

"Fair point. I'm going to play Quidditch," sighed Harry. "I miss flying. Proper flying, not that utter shambles we did the other day."

"Once we're free I give it two days before you do something else ridiculous and manufacture some magical catastrophe to put yourself out of action again," smirked Malfoy, eyebrow raising. "Maybe three if we're generous."

They chuckled together, then Draco went silent for a minute, his brow creasing as he seemed to sink into thought.

"Why did you call up the Room of Hidden Things that day?" he asked, plainly, echoing his words from a fortnight ago.

"I wanted to see if there was any...if anything of Crabbe was left," Harry said, which didn't seem to be what Malfoy was expecting him to say. He blinked at him, confused. "I didn't think it was right to just pretend he didn't die in there."

Malfoy's face hardened. "Killed himself," he said in clipped tones. "He killed himself in there whilst trying to murder you and your friends. That's what happened. I don't pretend it didn't happen, I just don't think there's any point trying to find bits of him. He's ash. End of story."

Malfoy's hard, detatched, bitter tone made Harry's stomach twist uncomfortably. "You're right. And I'm not going to pretend I didn't hate him. But he was your friend," Harry said.

"Not last year he wasn't." A tear slid down the side of Draco's face suddenly, and he swiped it off roughly. Harry thought he understood.

"It's okay to miss him, Draco." Malfoy turned to him angrily, glaring through slightly watery grey eyes. They looked almost translucent, and Harry did not look away. The glare morphed slowly, turning from irritated to frustrated to crumpling with a kind of resigned sadness.

"You know, you being Perfect Potter all the time really does get on my nerves," he mumbled out, with no heat whatsoever.

Harry had to stifle an incredulous laugh. "I'm not perfect, you idiot. And you've complained about me enough over the last two weeks for me to know that you don't think I am."

Malfoy opened his mouth almost as if to argue, thought for a second, then closed it again, and, to Harry's amazement, a faint pink flush crept up on his cheeks as he glanced down at his lap. They were silent for a moment. Draco bit his bottom lip.

"In the opinion of Saint Potter," he began, offhandedly, "is it okay to be conflicted about the people I once counted as friends? As family?"

"I know I am." Malfoy looked up at him questioningly, lower lip pink from where he'd been biting. "Some of the people I've lost...well, despite what you say, nobody's a saint. And I'll never be able to talk to these people about why they did what they did, or how they acted, but..." Harry paused, trying to think of the right words.

"I grew up with a chunk of Voldemort's soul inside me." Malfoy flinched and looked shocked at the information, but Harry ploughed on. "That's a bit of the most evil person I could think of, and it was inside me. And I've done and said things I'm not proud of, but I think I've also done good. What I'm trying to say is no one is a hundred percent good or bad, that includes Crabbe and your family. Surely we're all a mix of both, and our decisions, our choices are what mean something."

"What does that make me?" asked Malfoy, quietly, earnestly. "I made the worst choices..."

"You chose to lie about my identity at the manor, you chose not to kill Dumbledore, you chose to try and stop your friends from hurting us. That means something."

Harry looked up, to see that Malfoy was staring back, quite pink, eyes wide and young-looking as the flickering firelight reflected in them. "You've done some awful stuff, Draco," Harry said gently, but even so Malfoy winced a bit. "But your choices weren't easy. And you made the right one in the end."

Harry hadn't realised, but as he'd been talking, the gap between them, never very big to begin with, had gotten smaller. Malfoy was leaning closer to Harry, ever so slightly, their eyes locked. The rise and fall of his chest beneath his shirt was hypnotic. The otherworldly hazy glow around Draco's bright hair was magnetic. His hand rested on the sofa between their thighs. Harry's own hand slipped down there to support his weight as he, too, leaned closer, and two of his fingers overlapped those of Malfoy's – who blinked.

Draco pulled back sharply, staring directly ahead and sitting up ramrod straight.

Their fingers were still touching. Malfoy hadn't said anything, and Harry had officially run out of words; he wasn't sure there was anything he could say, given how his brain was a pile of scrambled egg right now. What had they been about to do? He withdrew his hand and returned it to his lap. Then he picked up his textbook once again and pretended to read.

He and Malfoy both pretended until it was time for bed, then they followed their usual pre-bed routine, exchanging a few light words here and there. Harry was the one to instigate the touching that night, but after they had finished and Harry rolled onto his side, even though it was clear that Harry was still awake, Malfoy's warm hand slid over his bare hip, rested there and gently circled its fingers, his hot breath ruffling the hair at Harry's neck as their feet wove together.

All of him, not just the skin of his shoulder, lit up once more. He didn't get a lot of sleep.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry could not pretend to himself anymore that this was just fooling around, that it was no different from jerking off...that there were no emotions involved.

Which meant there were feelings. No, there were Feelings. With a capital F. Which meant that Harry was...at least a little bit gay. Which was a bit like waking up to suddenly discover he was blonde. It just wasn't a part of the image he had of himself in his head. That something this fundamental to his identity wasn't what he'd previously thought it was for eighteen years shook Harry to his core.

He turned his face to take in the pointy profile of Malfoy next to him, dimly illuminated in the pre-dawn light. Draco Malfoy gave him such conflicted, confused Feelings. And that was pretty annoying actually; at least when he'd been an evil Death Eater prick Harry had known exactly how to feel about him. But now...

Now Draco Malfoy wasn't just an enemy. He was arrogant, but he was also funny. He was surprisingly patient, and diligent in his studies. He cared about what other people thought of him but refused to let that keep him from school. He had defense mechanisms a mile thick, but Harry caught glimpses behind them. He'd developed contrition, and obviously felt guilty for his part in the war. And he'd mellowed, thawed out to reveal a real humanity now that he was free of the Death Eater influence.

He was a person. Layered and complex, with feelings of his own.

Harry gazed at the straight, pointed nose; the long, barely visible eyelashes resting on his cheeks; the crests and valleys of his slightly parted lips; the cleanly defined jaw and long, slender neck.

He was beautiful.

What a wanker. Harry closed his eyes and sighed into the quiet room. How long had he been in denial to himself about this? Had he always thought this way? Had he ever had a crush on another boy? Had he always had a thing for Draco sodding Malfoy?

He genuinely didn't have an answer to any of those questions. But what he did have was a growing confidence in just what he was feeling right now. It wasn't as nice, simple, or innocent as what he'd felt for Ginny, but it was really there. For now.

That was the thing really, wasn't it? This was temporary. At some point – _soon_ he hoped – they would be separated and this...attraction would probably be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind. And whatever Harry might be feeling now there was no guarantee that it wasn't purely born of circumstance, that it would last, or that Draco felt the same way. In fact there was a very real possibility it was a side effect of the magic that had bound them together in the first place.

So the best thing for Harry to do would be to keep his mouth shut, and maybe, once this was over, do a little more soul searching. Get to grips with himself, with who Harry Potter really was, now he wasn't being the hero.

  
~ • ~

  
"I've got it! I've got it!!!" came the excited shriek down the Entrance Hall as Harry and Malfoy made their way out of breakfast in the Great Hall. Several students looked around in alarm as Hermione pelted down it, parchment in hand, small leather pouch dangling from her fingers, screeching to a halt in front of them, followed seconds later by Ron, who was panting.

"You've –"

"Got it – the translation!"

Harry and Malfoy looked at each other, eyes wide.

"You see it _was_ cuneiform," Hermione babbled away, elated, "but ancient Luwian instead of Akkadian, like we originally thought, and a predominantly logographic rather than pictographic syllabary, favoured a few hundred years _later_ , which was–"

"Hermione," Harry said firmly, looking away from Malfoy and cutting off her excited ramble, "you may as well be talking Greek to me. Upshot?"

"I'm pretty sure I know what happened _and_ how to reverse it! You wouldn't believe some of the books I had to look in, and all the research, and–"

"You've loved every minute of it, haven't you?" Harry said.

Hermione blushed. "A little bit, yes."

"What exactly did happen then?" he asked, letting excited relief start to build inside him.

"Well, it's got a bit of an involved history, and some of the nuance is lost in translation, but basically – it's not a curse. As far as I can tell, these talismans were originally given to some members of society that identified as incomplete; 'half-people' they sometimes called them. I couldn't make out the details but apparently these were witches, wizards _and_ muggles who felt they were missing a large part of themselves, and that when they found the right person they'd become whole. They're supposed to fuse you _completely_ to the other person, you see? Into _one_ person. As time went on they were then made for certain witches and wizards who wanted to combine their powers, although I couldn't find anything to prove that it actually made them stronger or anything, and then several other documented cases mentioned courting couples being gifted them as a sort of compatibility test."

Harry's face heated a little.

"So why did it stop at a foot?" asked Malfoy. "Why aren't we one person right now?"

"I'd hazard a guess that the Fiendfyre did a number on it," said Hermione, evenly. "The protection spell it was under must have been incredibly strong, but even that wouldn't have shielded it completely. Not forgetting that it's also probably older than Hogwarts itself. But don't worry," she added at the look on Harry and Malfoy's faces, "from what I can tell _intent_ is also a really important part of its function."

"Intent?"

"Yes, your intentions and concentration are the guidelines within which the magic is directed, kind of like Apparition, so that will have had an effect on the potency too. Harry, can you remember what you were thinking about when you touched it for the first time?"

"Uh," he said, casting his mind back two weeks to what had gone through it as he walked among the ash piles in the scorched room. "I was...thinking about Malfoy, I guess?"

The quizzical look thrown his way by Ron was echoed by Malfoy, who for once kept any scathing comments to himself. Hermione clicked her fingers triumphantly.

"That would explain why it was him you connected with! But since you weren't meaning to do it, the magic sort of petered out probably."

"And we reverse it how?" asked Harry, aware of the increasing tension in the body adjoining his.

"Simple: you touch it again."

"That's it?" Harry, Ron and Malfoy asked simultaneously. Hermione smiled.

"Yep," she replied chirpily. "You need to touch it at _exactly_ the same time, because by this point you'd normally have the one set of hands. But I think touching it with your shared foot should do the trick."

Relief swelled fully within Harry's chest now. This was it, he'd finally have his life back! No more struggling to walk, time to himself, _actual_ privacy! He grinned at Malfoy, who only offered him a small smile in return.

"And you're sure this'll work," said Harry, realising only now what a potentially risky undertaking this was and guessing that was why Draco was so quiet and tense.

"As sure as I'm going to get translating from a dead language. There's no pointing waiting any longer, I'd say let's do it now, see if we can get you two to class on time," she added in a tone that implied that this was the greatest gift that could ever be given. Harry cast another glance to Malfoy. His face was impassive but his grey eyes were full of far too much for Harry to parse out with a mere look.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked and, after a second, Malfoy nodded slowly.

"Alright then, let's hop to it," added Ron, shit-eating grin in place.

"If it goes wrong and kills us," Draco said, scathingly, "I believe I have found the upside."

The four of them moved into the nearest empty classroom. Harry bent down and took off their shoe and sock, Hermione levitated the gold coin out of the pouch onto the ground before them and they stepped up to it. One last look passed between them, then Harry and Draco pressed their foot down on the unnaturally warm metal.

  
~ • ~

  
_Squish_

  
~ • ~

  
**This doesn't feel like it worked.**

_What?_

**What the–?!**

_Potter, why are you in my head?_

**I'm not, you're in mine!**

_Don't tell me we–_

**–fused? I think we did.**

_Oh shit._

Harry paid close attention to his body, it seemed to be in one piece but...he wasn't the only occupant and it just felt...different.

They blinked their eyes, decided to move their hands to see what it felt like. Bloody bizarre as it turned out. But natural. They weren't two entities fighting for control of this body, they just seemed to make the same decisions at the same time. And if an impulse happened in the back of their minds – say, to flee to the Slytherin common room for instance – it was gently tempered on its way to the front. It was kind of like when you had first thoughts and second thoughts. The first thoughts were still his, but the tempering second thoughts were _theirs_.

_Apt analogy._

**Can you hear everything?**

_Yes._

Harry paid attention. He could feel-hear-sense Malfoy's thoughts too as they ran in tandem with his own. He was picking up little bits here and there, like a magnet attracting iron filings; the odd memory snippet here, an emotion or desire there, all weaving into a complex tapestry of thought and awareness. Malfoy was getting worried about being heard. His thoughts were spiralling into blurred, dark memories and deep seated fears. Harry tried to calm them.

**Don't worry, it's ok. We'll return to normal soon and I won't pry. Promise.**

A sweet, intoxicating rush of emotion swept them after Harry thought these words. It took him a moment to pinpoint what it was. But when he did, it added a different tilt to his perspective: it was affection. And pretty damn strong affection at that.

Now, Harry couldn't see Malfoy, of course, but he could just _sense_ his internal blush. And Harry tried to make sure Malfoy didn't think he was making a big deal of it. But that was probably pointless because Malfoy could feel and hear everything Harry could! Basically...no secrets. It was all there to be shared, including the intense, unbidden answering rush of affection that came from Harry this time.

_... Oh._

**Oh.**

Another of the weird things about being fused with Malfoy, was that that entire exchange had taken place in a split second. He could sense the passage of time and barely any had elapsed for all of this to occur between them. They actually took in their surroundings for the first time and looked up at Ron and Hermione who were gaping at them, slack jawed and stunned looking.

Malfoy found it a bit amusing. So did Harry.

"Y–You–You're..." Ron began.

" _Merlin's pants_ ," whispered Hermione.

This was enough to make them snort in amusement.

"You're one person!" squawked out Ron.

"What do we look like?" Their voice too was a confusing combination of haughty and low, and they were suddenly very curious. Hermione raised her wand, still looking thunderstruck, and conjured a full length mirror from thin air to stand before them.

It was their turn to gape. Their reflection revealed an exact blend of the two of them. Light, ashy brown hair struck the balance between Harry's black and Draco's white blonde; their height was precisely between the two of them; the eyes they gazed out of were a pale, silvery green and on their forehead was the lightest of scars cutting imperceptibly into their right eyebrow; their skin was the same tone as their shared foot had been, a warm caramel, and their face was a smooth combination of the angles of Malfoy's and the width of Harry's. One thing was obvious;

"We're fit!" they said, grinning back at themselves.

Ron made a choking noise and Hermione's eyes widened comically.

Glancing up and down their lean frame, their eyes –and then mind– wandered south and a smirk appeared on their face.

_Mind out of the gutter._

**It's your mind too, you're the one who went there.**

_I don't know what you mean, I was merely being practical._

"Well, this will make going to the bathroom a lot easier," they said, smiling, looking up to Ron and Hermione. They didn't smile back. "Calm down you two, it's not that bad."

"Not the words I thought either of you would say in this situation," said Ron disbelievingly.

"Uh, I think maybe the talisman completed the merge, like it was meant to do before...maybe your intentions weren't clear enough?" added Hermione shrilly, looking worried. "If logic follows then you should just be able to touch it again, think hard and split off properly? ... I hope..."

There was a slight tug in their gut. Disappointment maybe? Nerves definitely. Hermione was usually sure of things and hearing her sound this unsure did not fill one with confidence.

**You willing to try? It's not like it can make us any more merged than we are now.**

_No, but it could explode us into a million pieces. That thing is ancient and obviously dodgy as hell._

Harry could feel the fear, the strong trepidation. He tried to summon up his Gryffindor courage to counteract it – this wasn't a situation that was going to be solved by pussyfooting around.

_Yes, yes, no need to make me feel like a complete coward. You know, you could do with a bit more self preservation, Mr I've-already-died-once!_

Harry chuckled internally and sensed Malfoy join in too.

**Let's do this, Malfoy.**

"Alright," they said aloud, "we're going to touch it." They bent down, reached out their hand to where the golden coin had stayed on the floor and clasped it firmly in their grip.

It was like being dunked in a scalding hot bath and then an icy one immediately after!

He felt wrenched sideways, torn from himself and then thrown against the hard stone floor. Harry gasped for breath, the chill of the air around him prickling his skin with goosebumps. At least he hoped it was _his_ skin. He looked down.

There, sure enough, were _his_ hands; dark and calloused with bitten off nails. Glancing down showed him his feet, both of them, separate and free from any extraneous limbs, albeit with one sans shoe and sock. He appeared to be in one piece. Harry cast around for Malfoy and found him sprawled just like Harry was on the other side of the room, the innocuous looking golden coin on the floor in between them. Malfoy looked up and caught his eye and they shared a small, rather shy but relieved smile, although it only took a second for it to fall off Malfoy's face, then he went back to neutral.

"Are you both okay?" Hermione asked, stepping closer to them as they both heaved themselves up.

"I think so," said Harry, flexing the toes on his left foot. He noted that Draco was also missing his right shoe. Harry looked up to meet his eye, but once more the grey depths there were inscrutable. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. Malfoy held his gaze for a moment too long.

"Apart from lacking one shoe, I seem to be," he said, looking away and straightening his clothes. Draco nodded to Hermione. "Thank you for your help," he said smoothly. He then nodded to Ron and Harry, before he left the room in a hurry.

There. Back to normal.

Harry's heart dipped.

  
~ • ~

  
Harry had never appreciated a visit to the loo so much in his entire life. It was simple, efficient and, best of all, private! All else in his life was back to how it should be too. Classes, meals, everything.

So why didn't it feel like...like the right kind of normal anymore?

He felt like his reactions and quips had nowhere to be directed. And he kept waiting to hear a derisive snort or cynical retort whenever something happened that warranted one. His leg was cold. And, as he lay back in his own bed that first evening, alone, he felt disappointed with the realisation that he _was_ alone. There'd be no amazing orgasm, no accidental cuddling after. His bed was too small as well. Too quiet.

And that persistent desire was still there, even though the object of it was no longer a part of him...

In fact the whole day he'd done nothing but think about Draco, constantly sweep his eyes to the left to find him, look for him elsewhere when he didn't see him. Wonder about what he was doing and how he was feeling and whether it'd be weird for Harry to try and orchestrate some time for them to be together. He'd nipped back to the Room of Requirement during break to collect his things and felt an odd swoop in his gut to see that Draco had clearly already taken his things away. So much for out of sight, out of mind.

After tossing and turning for ages, Harry made up his mind, sat up and slipped out of bed, casting a wary eye over his sleeping dorm-mates before heading to the seventh floor. He walked past the wall three times thinking 'I need mine and Malfoy's bedroom, I need mine and Malfoy's bedroom, I _need_ mine and Malfoy's bedroom'. Sure enough, the dark wooden door appeared before him and Harry was just reaching out for the handle when he heard a quiet, shuffling noise. Glancing down the corridor he saw, illuminated in the moonlight, a tall figure with white blonde hair. It had paused, but, after a moment, continued towards him, hands in the pockets of its pyjamas.

Harry waited to open the door until Malfoy had reached him. He looked wary, but as Harry caught his eye, they shared a small, knowing look. Harry opened the door and they stepped inside.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Harry as he closed the door behind him, gazing around the room, which looked the same as it had done for the past two weeks, illuminated by the same lamps on the bedside tables. It felt...like his bedroom now. Well, not just his. Malfoy stood two feet in front of him, staring at the bed.

"No," he responded quietly. Harry took a step towards him and Draco turned, face unreadable.

The tense silence stretched on as they locked eyes and Harry's stomach filled with butterflies.

"You know, right now I kind of miss being able to hear what you're thinking," said Harry weakly.

Malfoy's eyebrows twitched into a frown for a split second. He swallowed. "I'll give you a hint," he replied, stepping forward the last foot between them. "Seeing as you need all the help you can get," he added quietly with a shadow of his old, familiar drawl.

Harry felt an irritated, affectionate smile pull at his mouth until Malfoy leaned in and gently, oh so gently, placed his lips upon Harry's for the first time.

Nothing about Malfoy said 'sweet'. Nothing. The kiss that Harry was being given, therefore, was a total revelation. It was utterly sweet, and gentle, and so tentative that he felt sure Malfoy still thought Harry might hex him for doing this. How he could think that after the last two weeks, after they'd shared a bed and a mind and a body, Harry didn't know.

What he did know was that finally, _finally_ kissing Draco lit up his entire body like Christmas lights. This felt right, and good, and long overdue.

Slowly, Harry slid his hands up to cup the back of Malfoy's neck, slipping his fingers into the smooth, blonde hair, and deepened the kiss, pressing his lips back firmly against Malfoy's soft ones. Malfoy made a kind of breathy moaning noise as he reciprocated more confidently, pulling Harry flush to him with an arm around his waist. Their tongues sought entry to each other's mouths at the same time, and Harry's stomach shot through with tingles as they stroked and moved together.

Malfoy tipped his head to the side and deepened the kiss so much that Harry was moaning into his mouth before he could help it. When Malfoy kissed him like that there was a softening of his insides, a hardening of his outsides and a ringing in his ears from the intensity. Malfoy's hands swept firmly over his back, pressing them tight together and when one large palm found its way to Harry's arse it gave a firm, delicious squeeze, that, if Harry's dick hadn't already been on the rise from the kissing, would've certainly done the trick.

Harry started dragging them backwards towards the bed, falling into a sitting position as the backs of his knees hit the foot of it. Malfoy didn't detatch for a second, gracefully slipping himself onto Harry's lap instead, knees bracketed either side of him. Malfoy wriggled in his lap, kissing him so hard that he was forcefully pushed onto his back! Harry desperately returned the kisses, turning frantic fingers to fumble with the buttons of Malfoy's pyjama top. Having Malfoy on top of him, fucking Harry's mouth with his tongue was so unbelievably hot that Harry wasn't sure if he'd last long enough for them to get their clothes off!

Finally, they broke apart for air and Harry gulped in a lungful, feeling woozy. Malfoy gazed down at him, lips pink, shiny and swollen, cheeks high with colour, usually haughty eyes distant and almost innocent looking in their guileless lust.

Harry had let himself imagine it, but this, _this_ was so much better than the fantasy.

Peeling away their layers, Harry took his time trailing his fingers up and down the milky white but scarred expanse of Draco's chest, lingering on his tiny pink nipples, watching them harden under his touch. Malfoy seemed to be past the point of wanting to dawdle though, and he tore at buttons and fabric as he kissed and nibbled Harry's shoulder, and before long they were both fully divested of clothing.

Harry couldn't hold back the small breathy sounds escaping him as Malfoy's mouth worked along the sensitive flesh of his neck, he had about as much control over the rolling of his hips too. His breath was laboured. Malfoy's hands were busy running over his ribs, his chest, his hips, but they slowed as they centred in on his crotch.

"Can I?" panted Malfoy into his neck.

"Fuck, Malfoy, you can do whatever the hell you want," muttered Harry deliriously, his head swimming. And when Draco's fingers finally closed around him, he just lost himself in it, his head falling back and thunking hard against the pillow.

No, it wasn't the same as before, in fact, it was entirely different. But if Harry had to choose between the internal, detatched pleasure of the connection or the rough, desperate friction of having Draco's hands actually on him, passionately grasping and pulling and scratching, well, there wasn't even any contest.

"I worried it was the talisman," blurted out Harry, breathily, for no reason he could immediately discern.

"Hmm?" Draco stopped his stroking and looked down at him curiously with blown pupils.

"I thought that it might be the reason I wanted to– well, you know."

Draco let go of Harry – not really what Harry'd been aiming for – and pushed himself up on his arms. "And was it? If you're changing your mind–"

"No, I'm not!" Harry said hastily, looping his arms around Malfoy's neck to stop him moving any further away. "I'm really not. It wasn't the talisman."

"I don't–" Malfoy swallowed, looking pained. "I don't want this to be just for tonight, Potter." Warmth bloomed in Harry's chest.

"This is for as many nights...and days as we want it to be then, isn't it?" Harry murmured, closely watching those grey eyes for their reaction. They widened ever so slightly.

"You're...you're okay with other people knowing?"

Harry's stomach did clench at the thought, but that was no deterrent. If anything it firmed his resolve.

"Yes," he said firmly.

Harry was immediately pressed back into the mattress as Malfoy kissed him harder than ever! His hands clasped onto Harry with a fervent need, his hips pushing urgently against Harry's in a wordless thanks. Harry felt the heated length of him press against his skin for the first time and practically blistered in excitement.

Draco was winding him up so much that Harry worried yet again that he would come too soon, he could feel the tightness of arousal coiling up within him. But there was so much more he wanted, and he needed to ask for it, no matter how embarrassing it might be. Harry pulled Malfoy's lips from his enough to be able to speak.

"I want to... what you did to yourself that night, I want that," he said against Malfoy's lips.

"I know," panted Malfoy back.

"How–?"

"There might have been an inkling of it in your mind when we fused," Malfoy said quietly.

"Would you– do you..."

"Do I want to fuck you?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "I don't know, let me think–" he snarked rolling his eyes.

Harry cut off the snark by surging forward to snog him again, and really, that tongue was much better served in Harry's mouth than being used to talk. Draco pulled back, gulping in a hasty breath, but smiling all the same. He proceeded to kiss his way down Harry's body, landing the occasional nip here and there as he went. Once he was level with Harry's straining hard-on, he looked up, eyes glinting.

"Pass me my wand," he muttered quietly. Harry located it in a discarded pyjama pocket, handed it over, and a brief second later felt all tingly and chilled as a cleaning charm swept up him. _Inside_ him. "You ready?" asked Malfoy, and Harry nodded quickly. He was beyond ready.

Well, he'd thought that, however he very quickly reassessed after Draco's finger, now slick with conjured lubricant, circled his arsehole and then pushed slowly inside. It burned, a lot. It wasn't necessarily what he'd class as pain, he'd been through real pain before, but it...it just _burned_. The digit inside him pushed a little further in, then drew out, then back in even deeper. The burning discomfort reached a point where he wasn't sure if he could handle it any longer.

It felt so entirely _not_ like what he'd felt through the connection that Harry was _this_ close to asking Malfoy to stop. He couldn't understand how this could possibly feel good at any point, because so far it was just uncomfortable, invasive and weird. There was no way he could stay hard with this.

"You okay?" asked Malfoy quietly from between Harry's legs.

"It's not great," he replied honestly.

"I know, but give it a little while, I promise you it gets so much better." Malfoy sounded earnest, so Harry tried to relax as he was fingered open a little more. It still burned, and it felt worse going out than going in, but after a long time of just keeping his finger pulsing minutely, Malfoy then circled it gently. Now that didn't feel too bad. He circled it a little wider and as he did, it brushed against a part of Harry's insides that reacted ever so strongly to the touch.

Harry's breath quickened. Malfoy's digit continued to circle, this time adding a small thrust in and out with it and when it hit that spot again it felt better with each pass. It was then that Harry realised the pain and discomfort had minimised to almost nothing, in fact the small ache that was left felt almost pleasant now. Malfoy increased his speed and pressure so gradually, so gently, that by the time he pressed firmly, properly upon that magic spot in Harry, Harry's body's automatic response was to push back against him.

Now _this_ was more like what he remembered! This wavelike warmth and pressure radiating from deep within, suffusing him with such a different kind of pleasure that it was almost confusing. Harry jolted as warm breath brushed upon his cock, which had started to reassert its interest in the current proceedings. Malfoy was leaning over him, looking up at Harry. Still pulsing his finger, he dipped his head and ran his tongue up the underside of Harry's dick, flattening it out against the head before sucking it gently into his mouth.

" _Nnngh!"_ was Harry's less than erudite response. There was a quick re-emergence of the burn as he felt Draco push a second finger into him. But the burn faded quickly and Harry tried to keep his hips still, he really did, but they were jerking and rolling and thrusting against the wet heat of Malfoy's mouth and the solid fullness of his fingers. Draco made the sexiest humming noises around Harry's dick, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying sucking him down, running his tongue around the crown and continuing to fuck Harry a bit more deeply with his fingers. Oh shit, Harry was way closer to the edge than he'd thought, he had only a few seconds to yank Malfoy's head up and away.

"Wait, stop," he gulped out, "I don't want to come yet."

Malfoy looked up at him, and smirked evilly with his pink, shiny lips. Then thrust his fingers into Harry, directly into the bundle of nerves and stroked it relentlessly.

Harry thought he might burst, or combust, or something! The pressure and heat and fullness and pleasure were all almost too much and he hovered at the edge of orgasm for what felt like an age before he started shaking uncontrollably, closing his eyes against the waves of intensity that crashed over him. His cock twitched dramatically, dripping hotly onto his belly as he came. He fisted the sheets in his hands and moaned as Draco continued to finger fuck him causing the waves to continue on and on.

Harry felt a tongue running up his dick again and flinched as its pressure there changed the nature of his orgasm in an instant – the pleasure now coming from two points, not just one. Christ it felt like coming all over again. It was so fucking good! And it went on for what felt like a ridiculously long time for an orgasm, at least in Harry's experience. The pulsing slowly stopped, Malfoy removed his tongue from Harry's dick and Harry just lay there for a minute, breathing heavily, his body quaking.

When he eventually came down and caught his breath, Harry cracked his eyes open to look at the panting Slyrherin lying between his legs who was currently looking a little awestruck. His fingers were still inside.

"You are so bloody hot, Harry," he whispered, gazing at Harry's body like it was the single sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Harry blushed a bit but felt loose and pliant and satisfied.

"You bastard, I said I didn't want to come yet."

Draco bit his lip. "I couldn't help it," he said, eyes fixing on the streaks of come Harry could feel running down his side. "I wanted to see it, not just hear it. I'm going to come out now, just a warning, this might not feel all that nice. But I'll go slow."

He was right, it didn't feel nearly as nice as a lot of the other stuff he'd been doing with his fingers, but he did indeed go very slowly. Once Malfoy had cleaned them up, he braced himself over Harry on his arms, gazing down at him with a hungry look.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. Harry wondered why he was asking – like they hadn't already done that and way more – but then he remembered where Malfoy's mouth had been. Harry wasn't sure he'd get over Malfoy being this considerate; it was almost creepy. But Harry nodded, smiling.

They kissed languidly for a while, Harry enjoying feeling pleasantly sore and wrung out, when the insistent nudging of Malfoy's boner suddenly reminded him that Harry was the only one that had orgasmed so far.

"I think I'm a bit too sore for you to fuck me," Harry mumbled. "Sorry."

"All in good time, there's so much else for us to try too," muttered Malfoy against his lips.

"What would you like to try?" asked Harry, only a little nervous of what the answer might be. But Malfoy's answer was simple.

"Would you touch me?" he asked plainly.

Harry reached down with his right hand and carefully ran his hand up and down Malfoy's length. His eyelids fluttered. He was hot, velvety, and heavy in Harry's palm. Harry stroked him harder, slipping his fist into a snug fit around his penis and dragging his hand up and down, hoping that he was getting the pressure right.

Malfoy sighed and bowed his head slightly, his hips starting to move into Harry's grasp. He certainly looked like he was enjoying it. But Harry wanted more. He wanted to reach more, to touch more, to make Draco fall apart more. He slowed his hand, brought Malfoy's head down for another kiss – which he succumbed to immediately, apparently happy to just kiss again – but this time Harry wrapped his arms around and rolled them so that Malfoy was on his back beneath Harry.

Draco looked almost surprised, but mostly turned on. He raised his arms above his head and stretched out a bit. His pale body almost shone in the dim light as his lean muscles moved beneath his skin. He looked...edible. Harry licked his way into Malfoy's mouth, caressing his tongue. Then he kissed his way down his sharp jaw, his long neck, his protruding collar bones, his scarred chest, his flat stomach. When Harry reached his jutting hip bones, Malfoy raised himself up on his elbows to look down at Harry. Harry caught his eye, but did not stop his gentle kisses, maintaining eye contact as he slowly kissed a path down Malfoy's snail trail, slowing as he reached his target.

Just hovering over it, Harry raised his eyebrows at Malfoy until he received a small but intense head nod from him. Harry would never forget the first moment he felt the smooth, silky flesh enter his mouth. The tangy salty bead of fluid at the tip dispersing across his tongue. The way Harry suddenly became overwhelmed with the desire to take as much of Malfoy into his mouth as he possibly could. The unpleasant gagging that came from trying this without knowing his limits. And the heady satisfaction that was powerfully sucking him down to a chorus of groans and whispered swear words.

He hit his stride with the sucking; circling his fist around the base, he could fully commit to drawing Draco into his mouth greedily, sucking harder, bobbing up and down urgently. The thighs bracketing Harry's shoulders began to tighten up, Malfoy's hands shakily gripped Harry by the hair, and he was pulled up and off just as a hot spurt of fluid flew out of Malfoy's cock, hitting Harry on the chin. He pumped his fist several more times and a few more jets of come spattered his face and hand, smearing over his fingers as he continued to stroke Draco through his climax.

"Ah, stop, stop," gasped Draco eventually, flinching slightly. Harry let go and sat up, and took in the blissfully dazed boy beneath him. He looked even more edible now.

"Merlin, I can't wait to try everything with you," Draco breathed, eyes closed, face and chest flushed pink.

Harry grabbed Malfoy's wand and, after making them both a lot less sticky, Harry climbed back in to lie on his side of the bed next to him. Malfoy cracked open his eyes and turned his face toward Harry, expression open.

"Promise me we'll get to do that again sometime soon," Harry said, smirking.

"In a reasonable amount of– ten minutes. Just give me ten minutes," panted Draco, after pretending to think about it. "Possibly thirty...or tomorrow morning." Harry grinned wider.

"It's okay. For now, I just want a bit more of this," Harry said, and he rolled over to curl his body into Draco's.

Harry smiled, wide and stupid, as the slim form of Malfoy slotted snugly up behind him, enclosing him in a warm embrace. He moved his feet to tangle with Malfoy's and rubbed them together a little. He felt Malfoy chuckle against his neck and Harry's smile broadened.

"You idiot."

"Admit it: you miss it a little," Harry mumbled, feeling sleepy and well shagged. Malfoy's bony ankle smoothed itself against Harry's leg in a languid motion.

"Even if I did, you'd never hear me say it. Plus, this is better."

Harry wiggled his backside into the body behind him and the arms about his torso tightened.

"Agreed," he sighed. "Night, Malfoy."

A kiss landed on the back of his shoulder and Harry's smile reached ridiculous proportions.

"Night, Potter."

 

~ ~ • ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this bit of Drarry :) None of my stories are beta read, so all mistakes are mine- I own them. Instead of finishing chapters of other longer ongoing stories (that I really should be finishing), I decided I would write this, which demonstrates perfectly my attention span. But all Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated by this absentminded mess of an author <3


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